


Vigil of the Vixen

by irishavalon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 34,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishavalon/pseuds/irishavalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieve has been in love with the Lady Morgana since she was a child. This is an account of her life and her constant wait for Morgana's return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "I Can't Take My Mind Off of You" (The Blower's Daughter, by Damien Rice)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is very heavily original character-centric. If you aren't fond of original characters (like me, ironically), then this fic is definitely not for you. If you are willing to read, I hope you enjoy Kieve's story! Sadly, the majority of these characters and Merlin are owned by BBC. The music, books, and movies referenced belong to their respective owners. I own nothing but Kieve, her family (except for her sister), and her fellow servants.
> 
> I do not authorize the posting of this work anywhere else.

Prologue  
Merlin and I sometimes say that we have lived three lives. The first life spans from our childhood, through adolescence and servitude to our respective masters, and ending with the deaths of the ones we loved the most. The second life was much longer than the first, after our loved ones died, when we ourselves were all but dead. And our third began with the return of the Once and Future King of Albion, Arthur Pendragon.   
Merlin has told his story. This is mine.

Chapter One: "I Can't Take My Mind Off Of You" (The Blower's Daughter, by Damien Rice)  
When I first meet the Lady Morgana, I am twelve years old, and working as a servant for my king and queen as they visit Camelot. They are not truly my monarchs, though. I was born a druid, but was captured as a child at the age of ten and forced into servitude in the castle. I am the queen's handmaiden, one of her lead maids. When I am taken into the King Helios's household, my fellow captives and I are given new names. The Queen, Arista, names me Lunete, but I vow to always remember my birth name. It is all I have left.  
I do not tend to my queen during the welcome feast. "You will bring my possessions to my room, Lunete," she tells me, and I resist the urge to cringe. Even after two years, the name still makes me nauseous. "You are not lovely enough to be presented before King Uther and Prince Arthur. You would embarrass my lord Helios." She says this without malice or pity; it is merely a fact. I understand. Red hair is hideous to royals; it is considered bad luck. This is precisely why Queen Arista chose me as her handmaiden. King Helios has bed more than half of the female servants in the castle. Arista hates his infidelity, but she knows she cannot stop him. She has ordered the execution of at least six of her handmaidens for sleeping with the king since she wed King Helios nine years ago. My master could not care less; he only lusts after a woman for a few weeks, sleeps with her, and then wants nothing more to do with her. But the king is superstitious. He will not try to bed me. My red hair is as good as a disfigurement. It is my weapon against him, and I am my mistress's weapon against her husband.  
And so I do not meet the Lady Morgana the first night. I assist Eoghan, Sir Trevelian's squire, and the other servants in carrying my lord and lady's belongings, up, up the spiral staircase and into their chambers. I eat with the servants of the castle in the kitchens. They speak with us about their masters and mistress. The older servants tell stories of the late Queen Igraine.   
The king and his son came out to greet my monarchs when we arrived. King Uther was old and, though he was gracious and attentive to my king and queen, he barely gave any notice to us servants. The prince was very handsome, with golden hair and deep blue eyes. King Uther told King Helios that the Lady Morgana was out for her daily ride, but would return shortly.   
The Pendragons' servants tell us that she is very beautiful, the women speaking with a twinge of jealousy, the men with a distant look in their eyes, and I know they are speaking the truth. After two years as a servant, I have learned to read the signs that tell whether servants declare their mistress beautiful out of loyalty, or if what they say of her is true. My queen is not very beautiful. Many of the castle's servants are prettier. But Bretta, one of my fellow handmaidens, does as duty demands, and tells the maids and manservants of Camelot that Queen Arista is beautiful, too. I don't add my agreement; I do not support this practice. The queen is uglier than a tree root.  
The nobles feast late into the night. When my mistress finally summons me to her chambers, it is a long time after the bells of Camelot rang out the midnight hour. The queen is more than a little tipsy when I arrive in her room, and she has to hold onto the foot of her bed to keep herself upright as I undress her. She tells me with slightly slurred speech of the knights and nobles of Camelot, how Uther is a gentleman and how Arthur will make a very charming king, and-- with some envy-- how beautiful Uther's young ward is. I smile a little when she looks at me, though I am only half listening.  
"Are you listening to what I am telling you, Lunete?" she asks as I help her to the side of the bed and she lays down.  
"Yes, your majesty. What does the Lady Morgana look like?"  
"You do not want to know, my dear," she says, patting my hand and looking up at me blearily. "It will make you very jealous. She is beautiful, very beautiful, with long black hair flowing down her back, and green eyes the color of the forest floor. She has a radiant smile, and a gracious disposition. I do wish Uther would wed Lady Morgana and Prince Arthur already. They are fond of each other, I can tell. And they are certainly old enough. I was eighteen when I married my lord. Of course there is the slightly untraditional matter of the lady being a year older than the prince…." She trails off as she falls asleep.   
I lay her red gown on the folding screen and make my way to the servants' quarters. The castle is quiet, and I wonder if the Lady Morgana is asleep. She must be very beautiful if my mistress has described her with such jealousy. The queen believes herself to be the loveliest woman in the world, and it is not often she calls other women beautiful. I wonder if I will see King Uther's lovely ward tomorrow. I know the prince is eighteen, and so the lady must be seven years my senior.

I catch glimpses of the Lady Morgana over the next week, but I am never close enough to get a good look at her. I am mainly confined to my mistress's chambers and the servants' quarters. I see the lady out of the castle windows as she mounts her horse for her daily ride, and occasionally from a distance as she enters the dining hall for meals.   
The day before King Helios's party is to return home, Queen Arista orders me to take laundry down to the servants' quarters to wash. I finish with the wash and hang it to dry, listening to Camelot's servants sing and tell stories as they work. After a few hours I fold the dry linen and carry it back to my mistress's chambers to pack into her trunks. As I round a corner, I trip and fall. The laundry flies out of the basket and rains down around me.   
"Oh dear, are you all right?" A woman's voice asks. I look up just as the woman pulls a towel off of her head. Long, curly black hair. Eyes the color of the forest floor. She wears an emerald green dress that matches her eyes, with gold fabric hugging her middle, and matching gold around the upper half of her sleeves. It is the Lady Morgana, not three steps before me.   
I bring my upper half to the floor again in a deep bow. "My lady, forgive me. I have been clumsy."  
"No, no, my dear, it's perfectly fine." She says, kneeling down and helping me gather the laundry strewn all about. "As long as you did not hurt yourself."  
I glance at her and avert my eyes once more. "No, my lady, I am all right," I say, though my right knee stings. "You don't have to help me, my lady. I can do it."  
"It is no problem," Lady Morgana replies, folding some of the towels and placing them into the wicker basket. I force myself to stop stealing glances at her, and help to fold the now no longer clean laundry. My heart is beating quickly, and I don't think it is only because I have embarrassed myself in front of the beloved lady of Camelot. She completely takes my breath away. Her smile is warm and kind, and I feel as though my heart is melting under its radiance.  
"What is your name, dear?" she asks sweetly when the laundry has been returned, neatly folded, to the basket. We still sit on the flagstone floor of the hallway.  
"Kieve," I say without thinking. My stomach flips when I realize what I've said. I shake my head vigorously. "Lunete."  
Lady Morgana smiles and chuckles a little. "Which one is it?" she says, amused.  
"Lunete," I say firmly. "My name is Lunete, my lady."  
"Well. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lunete. I am Morgana."  
"I know, my lady. Thank you for your help. I'd best be getting back to my mistress." I reply.  
"Yes." Lady Morgana says, standing up. "Yes, of course." She holds out a hand to me and helps me stand. I pick up the basket, curtsy hurriedly to her, and walk quickly down the hall. When I look back just before turning the corner, the lady is still watching me, and then she smiles a little, and turns the corner out of sight.  
I go back to my mistress's room, and begin to place the linen in one of the trunks, praying she does not notice that some of them have dirt and dust on them again.  
My queen enters the room while I am packing, and looks over my shoulder. "What is this?" she says sharply.  
"A towel, my lady?" I ask. She frowns at me, and snatches up the cloth, letting it unfold. She holds it up to her face, her frown deepening.  
"You did not clean this." She says, glaring at me. She whips the towel around and points to a part of the fabric with a nearly unnoticeable patch of dust.  
"I did, my lady," I say, my stomach plummeting in fear.  
"Then you did not clean it well, Lunete." She says, her voice rising.  
"I'm sorry, my lady. I fell--"  
"I don't want to hear your excuses, you lazy oaf. Go nextdoor to Helios's chambers and ask Finbar for one of his master's belts.  
"Please, my lady. It was an accident--"  
"Go!" I scurry out of the room, tears in my eyes.   
Lady Morgana is walking towards me quickly. I catch her eye and look away nervously, and I approach the king's door. I raise my hand to knock just as the lady reaches my side.  
"Is everything all right, Lunete?" She asks. I nod, but the tears begin to run down my cheeks.  
"What's the matter?"  
"My mistress found dirt on one of the towels. She's furious, and has sent me to retrieve a belt." I whisper.  
"Well, that's just ridiculous. You told her you fell?"  
She doesn't wait for a response, but goes to knock on the queen's door.  
"No, my lady. It's all right. It was my fault. I should have watched where I was going--"  
"It's an honest mistake. Good morning, your highness." Lady Morgana adds when the queen answers the door, curtsying. Queen Arista looks from the lady to me and back again.   
"My lady Morgana. What can I do for you?"  
"I'd like to apologize."  
"Apologize. Why, for what, my dear lady?" the queen asks.  
"I wasn't looking where I was going. It is my fault your laundry is not clean. I walked right into Lunete here on my way to the stables. I knocked the poor girl over, and the laundry went flying. Please forgive me, your majesty. I'd like to offer my maid, Guinevere, to assist Lunete in doing the laundry over again if it is not to your liking. It was not Lunete's fault." Lady Morgana says, stressing the last statement with a half glance at me.  
"Well." The queen responds, clearly unsure of how to reply. "Well. No harm done, right, Lunete? It wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the king. I would merely have the servants do the washing back at our own castle, but my lord Helios goes into quite a rage when his sheets are not clean."   
She is lying, of course. Helios is a man, nay, a pig. He'd sleep in a mud patch if he were permitted.   
"If you can spare your maid, I thank you, my lady. It is ever so much laundry. And poor Lunete is catching a cold."  
"It is done," Morgana says. She looks at me kindly. "Fetch the laundry, Lunete. I'll take you to Guinevere." I hurry into the queen's chambers, gather the clothes, and am out the door beside Lady Morgana before the queen has time to box my ears a bit before sending me with the lady.  
Lady Morgana takes me to meet her maid. I am quiet, thinking over what has just happened. A lady has rescued me from an unjust punishment. I steal a glance at Lady Morgana, and feel my stomach do somersaults. My mouth is dry and my heart is threatening to beat out of my chest.

I return to the castle with King Helios's court the next day, without receiving a punishment for the laundry. I cannot stop thinking of Lady Morgana. Every time I summon her face in my mind, my stomach swoops. I wonder what has come over me.  
A few months later, I enter King Helios's stables on orders to feed the horses. Queen Arista has discovered that she is finally pregnant, and is sleeping off a nauseous spell in her chambers, so I am left with no lady-in-waiting duties to fulfill.   
Eoghan, the squire, is in the stables polishing Sir Treveilian's sword. He looks up and nods in greeting when I enter. I begin feeding the horses, thinking constantly of Morgana. Finally I work up the courage to speak to Eoghan.  
"Eoghan."  
"Mmm?"  
"Have you ever fallen in love?" Eoghan is two years older than me. He shakes his head.   
"No, but Sir Cormac has." He says. Sir Cormac was just recently knighted, and is sixteen years old. "He told me what it's like."  
"Well, what is it like?"  
"Like a million butterflies have replaced your guts."  
"That's disgusting," I say.  
"That's what he said," Eoghan says, shrugging. I think about it. I summon my memory of the lady Morgana and feel a fluttering in my belly. Sir Cormac is right; it feels like thousands of tiny wings are beating around in my stomach.  
So I have fallen in love with the Lady Morgana, daughter of the late Lord Gorlois. Now what? I could scarcely tell her. She is a lady; she could never be with someone like me. Not to mention two women could never be married. I've known for about a year that I am not like most women. None of the women I have ever met have been attracted to other women. Yet I have longed to kiss a few, and men have never appealed to me.  
"So, who is he?" Eoghan asks, forcing me out of my thoughts.  
"What?"  
"Who are you in love with?"  
"Uh..I…" I stutter. "N-no one. I was just curious. Elena and Sir Gavan getting married and all. I was wondering how you know when you're in love. Just so I know." I'm rambling now, and I know it.  
"Oh." Eoghan says, returning to his polishing. The stable doors open and Greta, one of the servants, stands there, panting.  
"Lunete. The queen's awake. She wants you." Greta gasps.  
"But the horses--"  
"You haven't fed them yet? I'll do it. You go."  
I leave the stable and hurry to the castle, all the while thinking of Lady Morgana with despair. Why did I have to fall for someone so far out of my reach, in distance, class, and sex? I will probably never see her again. The last time King Helios visited Camelot was shortly after he married Queen Arista.


	2. "We Are Not Shining Stars" (Carry On, be Fun.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieve continues to serve in King Helios's castle.

Queen Arista gives birth to a healthy male baby shortly after midnight on Midsummer. The queen names him Cenric, but the king ignores her, and names the son Morien, after his father. Queen Arista tries to ignore him, and calls the child Cenric when King Helios is not in the room. But she is tired and weak, and after awhile, she hands the child with two names (like myself, I realize with a jolt) off to Greta, who has now become wet nurse, and the queen goes to sleep. She does not wake up.   
After the burial, I am sent to help in the kitchen. I work there until I am eighteen. I catch glimpses of the child has he grows, and secretly call him Cenric. It is not out of respect for the late queen; I disliked her almost as much as I hate King Helios. But, though the child may never know, Cenric was his first name. I choose to honor that, since no one has ever honored my own name. Besides, he looks more like a Cenric than a Morien.   
The young prince grows up, and comes to resemble his mother in many ways. He has light brown curls and hazel eyes. The child has a radiance about him, though, that makes him beautiful, and I wonder where he could have inherited such beauty, as both his parents are ugly as dirt. But the child is raised spoiled and rewarded for acting like his warlord and womanizing father. A governess, Rachel, is taken in when the boy is two years old, and at five, he tells her exactly, "You are a woman. I will be a man like my father, and so I do not have to listen to you, bitch." Rachel goes, crying, to the king. Helios merely laughs, tugs playfully on Rachel's blonde hair, and rewards Cenric with an extra cup of wine at dinner.  
The boy grows up wild, never listening to his governess, bullying the servants' children, and constantly getting into trouble, for which he is not punished. He wreaks so much havoc upon the court that is is almost a relief when, at six years old, he is trampled by a horse on its way to the castle. It turns out that the rider is a knight from Camelot, come to deliver a message from the newly crowned King Arthur.  
King Helios is furious. Of course, he does not love the child; he only cared that he had an heir. And now he has no heir. The knight offers his condolences, but Helios cannot be assuaged. He orders the knight to return to Camelot and tell his king what he has done. If Arthur has a message for the king, the knight must be the one to bring it. If not, then so much the better for the knight, so much the worse for his kingdom. If he has not returned in thirty days, Helios will declare war upon Camelot. Pale with terror, the knight leaves the castle.  
Two weeks later, he returns. He enters the king's throne room. His eyes are wild with fear, like a horse's when it sees a snake. The knight hands Helios a letter, emblazoned with the Pendragon seal. Helios reads it, and nods once. He looks at the knight. "Do you know what this says?" he asks.  
The knight gives a quiet whimper and shakes his head. He looks like he's about to burst into tears. "Your king apologizes for your mistake, and offers two hundred acres of the forest that sits on the border of our two lands as compensation." The knight nods shakily, but the king does not see. He beckons one of his guards to him, and tells him, "Kill the knight."  
The guard unsheathes his sword and the knight whimpers again. The servants and I turn away in horror as the guard plunges his sword through the knight's heart. I hear the king call for Sir Cormac. "Go to Camelot and tell the king what has been done. Tell him this is how I deal with murderers. And tell him we are no longer allies."


	3. "I'll Be Your Sky" (Boats and Birds, by Gregory and the Hawk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieve begins serving a new mistress.

Two months later I am summoned by the king. "What is your name, woman?" he asks me.  
"K--Lunete, sir."  
"You served my late wife, did you not, Lynette?"  
"I did, sir."  
"I have a woman coming to stay for a few days. You will tend to her. Do you understand?"  
"Yes, sir. And sir?"  
"What is it?" he snaps at me with irritation.  
"Forgive me, sir. Will this woman be my new queen?"  
"That is none of your business, bitch. And no, probably not." he says.  
I curtsy. "Yes, sir."  
"Leave me."  
The next day I am summoned once more to the throne room. To my surprise, the Lady Morgana stands beside Helios, murmuring to him. I am so surprised I almost forget to curtsy to them. For six years I have strained to hear the slightest bit of information about the lady. I am still in love with her, and have been half terrified since I was twelve that I would hear of her marrying some nobleman's son or foreign prince.   
She looks different, clothed all in black, her hair a tangled mess as dark as her dress, eyes cruel and vicious. But she is Morgana, and I feel like I might faint.  
Helios sees me. "Come here, woman," he orders, and Morgana looks up. I obey. "My lady, this is Lynesse. She will attend to you while you are here. Luna, this is Lady Morgana Pendragon."  
I am startled by the surname. Pendragon? I thought she was the daughter of Lord Gorlois. But I curtsy. "Pleased to meet you, my lady. I am Lunete."  
"Lunete?" she asks. "You are Lunete?"  
"You know my servant?" Helios asks.  
"Indeed. I met her when you were in Camelot last. I hope we will return soon."  
"As do I, my lady."  
I'm confused. Hadn't Lady Morgana come from Camelot? "Shall I bring any bags to your room, my lady?" I ask.  
"No need. I have nothing with me." Morgana replies. "I will be in conference with your king for a few more hours, and then you may show me to my room, and assist me with my bath."  
"Yes, my lady." I curtsy once more, and leave when the king dismisses me.  
In several hours, at dusk, I am summoned to escort the lady to her chambers. As I pour hot water into the bath, Morgana says, "I am sorry to hear that the young prince has died. It is unforgivable. I am ashamed of my brother's conduct in light of the death, but I am not surprised. He does not deserve the throne on which he sits." So Arthur is really her brother.   
"Your king and I will be working closely in the coming weeks," Lady Morgana goes on. "The throne of Camelot is rightfully mine. Thank you, Lunete. Draw the screen before the basin. I can bathe myself." I draw the screen and sit in one of the chairs to wait until she is ready to be dressed. I am shaky, and I feel the butterflies in my belly as I watch her shadow on the screen. She bathes like a dance, graceful and slow, and I am in awe. She is every bit as beautiful as I remember her, though the words she speaks make her sound like a different person. She is polite, but she is jaded. I am disturbed by how artificial her smile has become. The smile she gives Helios is pretend, and seems like she is mocking him. The one she gives me is softer, but still forced and dry.  
"Tell me where you are from, Lunete." Lady Morgana calls from the bath. "The woman of two names."  
"Like Cenric," I murmur.  
"Who is Cenric?"  
"No one. And I am not Lunete, my lady." I say. It hurts to hear the woman I love call me by a false name. "Lunete is the name my mistress gave me when I arrived at the castle eight years ago."  
"What is your birth name, then? And where are you from? Tell me a story; I am starved of stories, gorgeous." she says.  
My throat constricts. Did she really call me gorgeous? I am not gorgeous. I worry the compliment is as false as her smile.  
"Are you there, dear?"  
I jump at her voice. "Yes, my lady. I was born Kieve. I…" I stop and swallow. I am terrified of what she will do when she learns who I am.  
"Go on."  
"I am a druid. I grew up in a druid village. King Helios's knights raided my village and kidnapped women and children. They slew the men. I do not know if anyone remains of my people. They took us to this castle and put us to work." I say.  
"Do you know a boy named Mordred?" she asks. I look at the screen, startled.  
"Yes," I say. A dark haired boy of six appears in my mind, as clear a picture as if I have just seen him yesterday. "I played with him as a girl. He was best friends with my sister, Kara."  
"Then at least one of your people lives. I've seen him. That was several years ago, but I am sure he is safe." the lady responds.   
I am grateful she said that. I begin to hope that perhaps others have survived. My parents. My sister.   
"How did you become the damned queen's handmaiden?" she continues. "It is impolite not to finish a story, Kieve." She peeks her head around the screen and gives me a real smile. There are no butterflies inside me after that. There is only liquid, as if all my guts have melted.  
When I can speak again, I continue. "King Helios is a whore." I say; Morgana barks a laugh, and I smile a bit, jittery with pleasure. "The queen was tired of killing her servants for sleeping with him. But I am ugly and unlucky because of my red hair. No monarch would wish to have me near. Queen Arista was not superstitious, but Helios is. He does not even look me in the eye when forced to speak to me."  
"He doesn't look any servant in the eye. My damned father was the same." I remember how we servants may well have not existed, for all the notice King Uther gave us when Helios and his court arrived in Camelot. "And Kieve," she adds, "you are not ugly. And no one is lucky or unlucky. If they are met by misfortune, it is usually because they did something to deserve it. The damned king will meet his end, just like Uther. My damned brother one day, as well. They are all damned, every one of them."  
I am breathless. She speaks of overthrowing her brother with such passion. Something has broken in her, but it's like an egg, because something new and terrifying and incredible has burst forth from the shards of shell. She is still beautiful in her ferocity, however, and when she steps from the tub and calls me to dry and dress her, I can barely look away from her body for even a moment. Her skin is pale and lovely, not a blemish on her. It occurs to me that, if she is not married, I may be only the fourth person do see her naked, after her mother, wet nurse, and Guinevere. I am embarrassed by how pleased that realization makes me.  
She has me put her black dress on again after I dry her. "Thank you, Kieve. You may go. Good night."  
The next day, King Helios sends me to fetch a dress from Queen Arista's wardrobe for Lady Morgana, so that I may wash the dress she came in. I help her into a royal blue gown. She turns to me. "How do I look?" she asks.  
Breathtaking, I want to say, but I am too awed to open my mouth. I stare wordlessly at her. She smiles.  
"I'll take that as a compliment. Come find me when my dress is washed and dried. It's been a long time since I wore something this extravagant." She says, leaving the room, the skirt swishing as she walks. I exhale slowly, and grab the foot of the bed, my legs suddenly jelly. When I can move again I take her gown down to be washed.  
When it is washed and dried, I find Lady Morgana in conference with King Helios. She comes with me to the room, and I help her out of Arista's gown and back into her own. "I will be gone at dawn tomorrow," Morgana tells me. My fingers become clumsy at the reminder.   
"I will be here to serve you--" I begin.  
"No. Don't wake up for me, Kieve. I have nothing to pack. I'll bid you farewell tonight. You may return to your other duties tomorrow when you awaken. But I will return soon." She turns to look at me. "I'd like to ask you to serve me when I return. You are very responsible and obedient. And there's something about you…" She trails off, giving me a look I cannot decipher for a few moments. Then she smiles and continues. "I like you. You're a good and kind woman, Kieve."  
Then she has left the room once more, and I am left staring after her and searching once more for my breath. Something about me…. What? What about me? I don't dare think she is attracted to me. She may have said last night that I am not ugly, but there is a difference between not being ugly and being beautiful. And there is a difference between finding someone beautiful and being in love with them. No. She couldn't possibly love me. I return the blue dress to Queen Arista's dusty wardrobe and return to the kitchens.  
In the evening, I am summoned to the Lady Morgana's chambers. I braid her hair for bed. Then she turns to me and kisses my cheek. "Thank you, Kieve. You are a good and dutiful servant. I will see you when I return. Good night."  
"Good night, my lady," I manage to say, the place where she kissed me burning with surprise and excitement and love. I exit the room.


	4. "You Make My Heart Beat Faster" (Faster, by Matt Nathanson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar woman comes to the castle.

As she said, she is gone when I awaken the next morning. So are several of the knights. As I return with fresh water for the cook, I pull Greta aside and ask, "Where are the men?"   
Greta frowns. "The king sent them to one of the villages in the neighboring land. One of their excursions." She grimaces. Greta is from my village. I did not know her as a child, and she has never told me what her name is, so I call her by the name the late queen gave her. Most of us servants are like me, like the young dead prince, people of two names. Kieve and Lunete. Cenric and Morien. Druid and servant. Prince and monster.  
The men return, and Sir Eoghan comes into the kitchen shortly after we receive word of their return. "Where is Lunete?"  
I cringe. "Here, sir," I say, stepping forward.   
"You are needed. Fetch the late queen's loveliest dress for the king's guest."  
I am startled. "Yes, sir. Has the Lady Morgana returned already?"  
"No. It is another of the king's pursuits." Sir Eoghan replies. "Bring it to the guest chambers beside the room the Lady Morgana stayed in."  
"Yes, sir." I follow him out of the kitchens and walk the opposite way down the hallway. In Queen Arista's room, I find a red satin gown. It was her favorite, and I do not want this strange woman wearing the gown Morgana borrowed. I imagine how angry the late queen would be if she knew the king was giving another woman one of her gowns. I knock at the guest room.  
"Come in." Helios's voice calls. I enter and stop short in the doorway. Beside the king stands Guinevere. I do not know what she is doing here, but I merely curtsy. She does not seem to recognize me.  
"I come with the gown, sire," I say.  
"Yes. Help our guest into it."  
"That is not necessary. I know how to dress myself." Guinevere says harshly.  
"I insist," Helios replies, leaving the room.  
"I don't even want to be here," Guinevere snaps, when Helios shuts the door.  
I don't know how to answer. I begin unlacing the back of the gown.  
"Who's dress is that?" she asks.  
I look up at her, and she returns my gaze steadily. "My late mistress, Queen Arista," I say finally.  
"That man is giving me a dead woman's clothes?" She says, horrified. I do not answer. She looks at the gown for a moment, then sighs and begins undoing the strings of her own gown. I help her, and after a few seconds she lets me do it.   
When I am finished, she says, "Thank you."  
I curtsy. "It is nothing, my lady." I say. She looks at me sadly for a little bit, and then sighs.  
"You may go." she says. I bow out of the room.  
In the evening I am brought to the dining hall to assist with dinner. King Helios does not let me serve him. I supply Guinevere with food and drink, while Greta serves Helios. When they finish the meal, one of the guards comes in.  
"Go away," the king says. "I am still eating."  
"My lord, the lady Morgana is here to see you." Guinevere and I both flinch. Helios does not notice.  
"Very well. Send her to the throne room." He rises. "Excuse me, my dear," He tells Guinevere. "This is important business." He exits the room. After a few moments, Guinevere rises and follows him. I stare after her.  
"Come. Let's clean up," Greta says.  
"She's gone to listen," I say. I do not know how King Helios came to discover Guinevere, but I do not think she is on Morgana's side. If she hears Morgana's plans to overtake Camelot, she may run home and tell Arthur.  
"That is none of our concern, Lunete," Greta replies. "Come. It is our job to serve, not to intervene." I sigh and help Greta clear the table.   
I am doing the dishes a few hours later when the king and Morgana come into the kitchens. "Where is she?" he says.  
"Where is who, my lord?" the cook asks.  
"The woman. What was her name?" Helios asks Morgana.  
"Gwen. Guinevere."  
"You, girl." He points to me.  
"Yes, my lord?" I ask.  
"You served her. Where has she gone?"  
"I…I do not know, my lord." I respond. I glance at Lady Morgana. She looks at me, and I avert my eyes. I know I have to tell her. I must; I can be useful to her. I take a deep breath and look Morgana in the eyes. "She overheard you. She knows whatever you were planning. I didn't see her leave, but I am sure she's gone back to Camelot." I say clearly, my voice shaking.  
"We have to go," Lady Morgana says to the king. He leads the way out of the kitchens. Morgana stops in the doorway, turns, and looks at me. "Kieve." she says. "Thank you."  
"Yes, my lady." I say as she leaves the room.


	5. "You're My Key To Survival" (Awake, by Secondhand Serenade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana, King Helios, and their knights lay siege to Camelot.

King Helios is in a rage for a week. He has lost his pursuit, and Morgana is furious with him for allowing a Camelot woman--especially one so close to Arthur-- into the castle. She rants to me as I tend to her.  
"She was engaged to Arthur. What possessed the damned king to take her in is beyond me. Utterly stupid. I do not care if he did not know. It is not the time to take spoils of war into the castle. The war has not even begun. But it will. And Arthur will die. Would you like to see Camelot again, Kieve?"  
"I do not know, my lady."  
"Perhaps when I am queen I will find your family bring them to Camelot." She says. I say nothing, surprised at her kindness. She glances at me. "You do not like that idea?" she asks, frowning.  
"I have heard years of empty promises, my lady," I confess.  
"When I am queen of Camelot, Kieve, no one will have to hide who they are. Magic will be permitted. My subjects will not fear being honest." She looks at me steadily, as though daring me to tell her how I feel. I swallow, and return to unlacing her gown.  
A man with dark hair, a wide face, and cruel black eyes comes to the palace today. He talks with Lady Morgana and King Helios for a long time in the throne room. Greta and I are walking by with baskets of laundry when the doors open. I run directly into King Helios.   
"Clumsy woman!" He exclaims. "If I were not incredibly busy right now I'd whip you, bitch."   
"Helios!" Morgana says harshly, coming to stand beside him. "You lay a hand on this woman and I will kill you before you even get a taste of your reward." She turns to Greta as I try to remember how to breathe. "Greta, is it?"  
"Yes, my lady," Greta says.  
"Tell the first knight you see to gather the others in the courtyard. Tell him we will be laying siege to Camelot tonight."  
"Yes, my lady," Greta says again. She curtsies and hurries down the hall. Helios makes for the courtyard. Lady Morgana looks at me and down at the basket in my hands.  
"Why do you always get in trouble when you have laundry with you?" she asks. "I may not have time to be your damsel in distress much longer."  
"May I come with you, my lady?" I ask before I remember to hold my tongue. She looks at me for a moment.   
"Can you wield a sword?" she asks.  
"No, my lady."  
"Shoot an arrow?"  
"No, my lady."  
"Do you have magic?"  
"I don't think so, my lady." I am beginning to feel foolish for asking, and look down at the basket in my hands. After a moment, I feel Morgana's fingers under my chin, gently pulling my head up so I can look her in the eyes.  
"Be ready to go when the bell tolls." she says. "Borrow a man's trousers, shirt, and boots, and get a helmet from the armory. I will find a way for you to come."  
"Thank you, my lady." I reply, and hurry away.  
I sneak into the servant's quarters and steal one of the men's clothing. I take a helmet from the armory. When the bell in the tower rings, I am in the hall outside of the throne room. I suddenly realize I do not know where I should meet Lady Morgana. I start to run down the hall. I round the corner on the way to the courtyard.  
"Stop!" someone shouts. A flash of gold, and suddenly I am frozen. Lady Morgana stands inches in front of me. Her eyes flash gold once more and I can move again. "Are you ready, Kieve?" she asks. I nod. "Come, then." I follow her out to the courtyard, where Helios is talking with one of the knights. He turns when he hears Morgana approach.  
"We are ready to leave, my la--- What is a servant doing here? And a woman at that!"  
"I will need my maidservant in Camelot."  
"But a woman come to a battle? That's ridiculous."  
"And what do you think I am, may I ask?"  
Helios stutters for a moment, before falling silent. Lady Morgana smiles. "That's what I thought. Ready the troops, you great lout." King Helios leaves. Lady Morgana turns to me. "You can ride on my horse," she says.  
"I can walk, my lady," I say.  
"No. I insist."  
I climb up onto the horse after her, and we begin to travel, the troops marching behind us, King Helios on a white horse beside us. The king glares at me every once in a while, flushing when Lady Morgana catches him.   
We reach the edge of the forest, and dismount on a hill. In the distance, the ivory towers of Camelot rise high, glowing slightly in the darkness. Lady Morgana turns to me. "Climb up that tree so you are out of sight." I obey. When I am ten feet in the air, the lady Morgana looks up at me. She murmurs a word and I see her eyes glow gold in the darkness. "You're invisible," Lady Morgana tells me. I look at my hand. I can feel it on the tree branch, but it is out of sight. "I'll come get you when Camelot is seized." She says.  
"Good luck, my lady," I say, my heart beating fast as Morgana addresses the army, and then they head down the hill, and I am alone. For some time I can hear the men marching, see the torches some of them carry. But the sound dies away, and the flames grow smaller and smaller in the darkness until I can no longer see anything but the castle, lit up by a hundred torches in the distance. I wait, and I am not sure what I am waiting for. Screams? The sound of blades clashing? The cacophony of fleeing villagers?  
I only have to wait awhile. Then, out of nowhere, the clang of bells reaches my ears from the city. I strain my ears, and hear the distant sounds of battle. It is utter chaos in the city. I am pleased; we have truly caught them by surprise. The kingdom will surely fall under Morgana's rule by dawn.


	6. "Her Face Is a Map of the World" (Suddenly I See, by KT Tunstall)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieve's first day in Camelot.

I listen to the bells and the far off roar of war. Then there are sounds of running feet beneath me. I can scarcely see anything, until someone runs past me with a torch. In the firelight I can see dozens of men, women, and children sprinting through the forest. How strange that they are fleeing the same woman they loved five years ago.   
I see knights guiding the refugees through the forest. Something comes over me, and suddenly the cape of the knight I am looking at catches fire.  
"You're on fire!" His comrade says. The knight rips the cape off and stamps out the flame. I stare, wide-eyed. Did I do that? I wish for a looking glass, so I can try again, and, if it happens again, I will know it is me if gold swims in my eyes.  
I don't see anymore knights that night, and I do not want to injure any villagers, so I do not have a chance to test my new-found magic. For several more hours, I sit in this tree, my arse becoming more and more numb as I wait for Lady Morgana to come fetch me.   
Finally, as the sky turns pink and orange, I hear her voice. "Kieve. The battle is over. Camelot is ours." her voice is triumphant. I see her eyes glow once more and my hands come back in sight. I climb down the tree as quickly as I can. We leave the trees, and Lady Morgana stops. I do, too, and the air disappears from my lungs.   
"Look at that, Kieve. Isn't it lovely?" She says. She looks at me, and her smile is genuine and nearly as blinding as the sight before us. Camelot's ivory towers stand before the dawn-lit sky. The walls glitter in the early golden light. It sparkles before the pinks and oranges of the morning. It truly is beautiful. "I am home." Morgana murmurs, more to herself than to me.Then she looks at me again and adds, "Come. There is much to be done."  
I follow her down the hill and through the gates into the village. It is deathly still. The bodies of dead knights, some Camelot's, some our own, are still strewn throughout the streets. Blood is everywhere. I lift up my skirts to prevent my only dress from being stained.   
We enter the throne room. It is more decorated than King Helios's throne room. The guards and Helios bow low to Lady Morgana when we enter. She pays them no notice, but walks across the room and sits on the throne. I bow to her, then stand at her side, ready to serve.  
"You there." She points to one of the knights. "What is your name?"  
"Sir Cormac, my lady," he replies.   
"Sir Cormac. Fetch two more of your fellows and go find Arthur. I want him dead. Kill him on sight, as well as anyone who is with him." She orders. Sir Cormac bows to her.  
"Yes, my lady." he says, and is gone.  
Silence falls throughout the room. Finally, Lady Morgana turns to Helios. "Have all the servants fled?"  
"Yes, my lady." He replies. She turns to me.   
"Kieve, you work in the kitchens, do you not?" she asks.  
"I do, my lady. Shall I prepare a meal for you?" I reply.  
"Yes. When it is ready, come fetch me in the dungeons. I have some business to attend to. You know where that is, Kieve?"  
"It is just around the corner from the kitchens, correct?"  
"Yes." Morgana stands, and leaves the room. I follow her after a moment, leaving her shadow when she passes the kitchens. The room is utterly deserted; it is strange. The fire is still roaring in the hearth, balls of dough abandoned on the counter. I begin to knead, and then fetch the paddle, placing the loaf upon it. I wander around the room as the bread bakes, looking for something more. There are some cold slices of chicken on the counter, with sliced vegetables. When the bread is done, I place the meat and vegetables on the paddle and place it above the fire to warm it. Then I slice the bread and a block of cheese I find and place all the food on a platter. I carry it up to the dining hall.   
Lady Morgana is still in the dungeons when I place the meal on the table. I walk down the stairs to fetch her. Suddenly a yell rises from the depths of the castle. I stop as the sound filters through the hallways, nearly rattling my bones. I wonder who she has captured down there, and what she is doing to him. No doubt she is trying to get information out of him.  
Sir Gavan is standing at the entrance of the dungeons. The scream comes again, louder with proximity to the source. I hesitate.  
"Is the meal ready, Lunete?" Sir Gavan asks; he still refers to me as Queen Arista's name for me.   
Suddenly I cannot speak. I nod silently, my heart beating violently against my chest, the gruesome sound echoing in my head even as the actual scream dies away.  
"I will fetch her. You can return to the dining hall," Sir Gavan says, looking at me pityingly.  
"No need. I am here." Lady Morgana appears in the doorway, pushing hair out of her eyes. I look at her, trying to will my body to stop shaking like a cornered animal. I don't want her to see my fear. Morgana looks even more formidable in my eyes now, because I know she is the one who made that grown man scream in pain, the same man I can hear whimpering in the dungeons now. I resist the urge to flee. What is preventing the lady Morgana from doing the same to me if I do not serve her perfectly? Two strong emotions war within me as I look into Morgana's forest-green eyes. I am terrified by the hardness I see there, while all the same my chest swells with the same passionate fire of love that has burned within me since I was twelve years old.  
Morgana frowns slightly. "Come, Kieve," she says gently. For a moment, she looks like she regrets having asked me to come fetch her when the meal is ready. She reaches out a hand to guide me back up the stairs, but I turn just short of her reach and lead the way to the dining hall, afraid that she will feel me shaking. I am ashamed of this fear, but I cannot quell it. I know Morgana is only an enemy to those who will protect Arthur and those who betray her, and I know I will never do either of these things, but still I am so afraid that I almost feel detached from myself, as though I am outside of this trembling body.  
Morgana sits at the table and watches me as I pour wine into her goblet. When I glance at her briefly, her brow is furrowed. She eats quietly for a moment, glancing up at me periodically. Finally, she says, "Kieve, that man knows where Arthur is. He will not tell me the damned king's whereabouts unless he is tortured. You do not know where Arthur is; therefore, you have nothing to fear from me, my dear. I'm sorry you had to hear his screams. I will prepare a room for you that is farthest from the dungeons."  
"My lady, you don't have to--" I begin, embarrassed.  
"I insist. It is no trouble." She says. She takes my hand in both of hers and looks me directly in the eyes. "I do not want you to be frightened of me." She kisses my palm gently and lets me go.  
My hand tingles, and my heart sores at the kiss. When I find my voice again, I say, ever so quietly, "I am not frightened of you, my lady." Lady Morgana smiles her real smile at me. We stare at each other until the door bangs open. King Helios comes stomping in. He sits down beside Morgana.   
"Where is my food, wench?" He asks me. Lady Morgana opens her mouth to speak, glaring at the king, but I stand straight and tall and look the horse's ass of a man dead in the eyes.  
"I serve only my queen. To me, you are nothing but a pig. And if you ever speak to me in that manner again, I will take a knife and slit your throat before you can draw another breath. You are the scum of the earth, Helios, and from now on, I serve you no longer." I say.  
For a moment, all is silent. Morgana and Helios stare at me in shocked silence. My heart is pummeling my ribs, and I can feel my hands shaking more than they had been in the dungeons. But I return Helios's glare until he stands up and draws his sword.  
"Why, you little---" He begins, but suddenly he is flying through the air. He slams against the wall and crumples, unconscious to the floor. The sword clangs on the stone beside him.  
"Thank you, my lady," I pant, turning to her. But Lady Morgana continues to watch me.  
"I did not do that. I wanted to, Kieve. But that was not me." she says quietly. Suddenly I see the knight's burning cape in the woods.  
"I have magic?" I murmur.  
"Aren't you a druid, Kieve?" Morgana asks, now looking at the king's unconscious body.  
"Yes, but my magic has never revealed itself until tonight. I set a knight's cape on fire in the woods. And now I've thrown Helios back." I say. Morgana has stood and is approaching the king.  
"Is he dead?" I ask nervously. I had only meant to teach him a lesson in treating people like humans, not kill him.  
"No, Kieve. Just knocked out. Well done. I should teach you to control it, though." She returns to the table, smiling fondly at me. "I'll make sure he cannot get his hands on you after he awakens."


	7. "I'm Not Whole When You're Not Near" (Hold Onto What You Believe, Mumford and Sons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana loses her throne.

We spend the night in the castle. The knights return empty-handed in the morning, which puts Morgana in such a rage that she murders one of them by magic. She addresses the remainder of the villagers, tells them treason will not be tolerated, but magic will now have free reign in the kingdom. "You are free to be who you are, without fear of death or condemnation. Magic is good. Magic is not something to be prohibited. Magic is more powerful than those who would forbid it. Magic killed Uther Pendragon, and magic has driven Arthur Pendragon from this kingdom. Together we will forge a new era, one where magic is not outlawed. Anyone who tries to overthrow me will be thrown in the dungeons like your celebrated knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Gwaine, and Sir Percival." A collective gasp spreads through the crowd. They huddle together, like sheep about to be slaughtered, seeking comfort in one another.  
When torturing the knights turns up no additional information, Lady Morgana sends Agravaine, the advisor with black hair and a face like a bulldog's, to search for Arthur. A day goes by, and Agravaine has not returned to the city. Morgana tells me the knights are starving in the dungeons, a new form of torture than the one she used the first morning. In the afternoon, she tells me Agravaine is dead.   
"It was Emrys, I am sure of it." She says. She explains that it is foretold that Emrys is to be her destiny and her doom.  
I do not see King Helios for two days. Morgana does not summon me when he is in the room with her, and the guards keep me out when I come to find Morgana if she is in conference with him. He is angry with her, she tells me. He thinks she threw him against the wall. "Let him believe it," she says, looking at me seriously. "I almost did it myself, but you were a split second before me."  
On the fourth day of Morgana's rule, she tells me Emrys paid her a visit the night before. "But you are not dead." I say. "Perhaps it was a dream."  
"It wasn't a dream," she says, fiddling with her sleeve. She looks at me. "Perhaps he is keeping me alive for something."  
"What?"  
"Only the gods know." Morgana says after a moment.  
The king comes running into the room. Morgana spins around, grabbing me and pulling me behind her. "Do you know how to knock, you great oaf?" she demands.  
"Forgive me, my lady. Arthur is back. And he has fought his way into the castle." he says. My heart stops.  
"Alert the guards. Ring the bell. I shall come to meet my brother." she says. The king bows out of the room, shutting the door. Morgana turns to me, gripping my shoulders tight.  
"Get out of the city. Head for Helios's castle. Do not stop until nightfall."  
"I want to stay, my lady. I want to help fight. My magic--"  
"You cannot control it," Morgana interrupts. "I will not have you killed. Now go." she kisses my forehead and is out of the room before I can argue. I wait a moment, then head for the castle entrance. I hide behind walls from Arthur's knights as they fight the guards. Once, I am found by two knights. They approach me, and I am cornered. At the last minute, I try to focus on throwing them against the wall with my magic. Instead, a torch flies off the wall and begins beating the knights. I sigh, and run past while they are distracted by the torch.  
I run out of the city, up the hill, through the woods. I do not slow down until I reach a stream. Panting, I fall to my knees and scoop the water into my mouth. When I can breath again, I continue walking. I follow the stream, knowing it will lead me to the edge of the woods, and from there I will be able to find my way to the castle.  
I come to the castle just as the sun is setting. Greta runs to meet me. "How did it go?" she asks.  
"I'm hungry," I reply. Greta looks me up and down, her friendly smile disappearing. I must look a right mess.  
"Yes, of course." She says, leading me to the kitchens. The cook fixes me a meal of bread, cheese, and wine. When I have finished eating, the servants gather around, and I tell them of our conquering and losing Camelot. When I am finished I can barely keep my eyes open. Greta helps me to bed, and I sleep late the next morning.  
When I awaken, I look for Greta. I find her in the kitchen, where no one is working. The servants are dancing, and one is playing pipes. Rachel sees me first. Smiling, she pulls me into the dance. I comply; I know the steps as if I were born dancing. It is a dance my village performed at every occasion. Children learn the steps as soon as they can walk.  
"Has Lady Morgana returned?" I ask Rachel. She shakes her head, still grinning. My heart sinks.  
"Have you not heard the news?" she asks.   
"I only just woke up. What has happened?" I ask. The only occasion that I can think of that the servants would be celebrating like this would be King Helios's death.  
"The knights returned this morning. The king is dead. Long live our freedom!" She cries.   
"Long live our freedom!" the other servants cry.  
The damned king is dead. I am grateful the gods have smiled upon us. Yet all is not well in my heart. Lady Morgana has not come home. I worry she is dead.  
"Did the knights say where Lady Morgana is?" I ask Rachel. "Is she… dead?"  
"They did not say. You can ask them. They are busy burying the casualties."  
I leave the kitchen when the dance is over. The servants begin another dance, one that was my favorite as a child. My older brother, Kilydd, used to dance it with me. He was drowned by King Uther's men two years before I was captured and taken to Helios's castle. He was nine.   
I push thoughts of Kilydd out of my head. They are what remains of a dark spot in an otherwise happy childhood, until I was captured nine years ago. I enter the courtyard. It is filled with white sheets covering men and wailing parents, wives, and children. I see Sir Eoghan first. I approach him.  
"Sir, what has become of the lady Morgana?" I ask. He turns to me.  
"We do not know. Part of the castle collapsed on top of her, but when the dust cleared, she was gone. I don't know if the witch is dead or alive, or where she is now. Some of the men are missing, too. Trevelian and Gavan, and some others." he says. My throat tightens.  
"Thank you, sir," I say, barely recognizing my own voice. I turn to go.  
"Lunete," Sir Eoghan says, in a less formal tone. I look at him. His expression returns me to childhood, when he was a squire and I served Queen Arista. "Is anything the matter?" he asks gently.  
"No," I tell him, shutting him out. He would not be so gentle if he knew the truth. I force a smile. "All's well, Eoghan." Then I turn away, walking back to the castle.   
I barely know where I am wandering when I suddenly find myself in the room Morgana stayed in when she visited the castle. I sit in a chair, facing the window. If Lady Morgana is traveling through the forest, I will be the first to see her leave the trees. I wait.


	8. "Give Me Hope In the Darkness, That I Will See the Light" (Ghosts That We Knew, by Momford and Sons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New kings rise to power and good news is received.

A few hours later, Greta comes in with a tray of food. She sets it down on the window sill. "What are you doing, Lunete?" she asks.  
"Waiting."  
"For what?"  
"My mistress."  
Greta is silent for a moment. Then, she says, "Many of the servants are leaving. They're going to their old homes before the king's brother comes to be crowned. Don't you miss your family?"  
In my mind, I see Kilydd, lying face down in the lake, only moving when the waves roll under him. I remember being lifted on my father's shoulders so I could hang cloths on the string at the burial place.  
"I will wait for my mistress, Greta."  
"Clarine." Greta says quietly.  
"What?"  
"My name is Clarine. My true name." she says.  
"I am Kieve," I respond, staring past her, out the window. "I have one sister. My brother is dead. It is possible my sister is, too. And my parents. I have no one on this earth but the lady Morgana. I will wait for my mistress."  
Clarine leaves. I do not touch the food until it has been dark so long that the moon and stars have begun to set. I eat. I sleep. I awake just after dawn. I watch and wait. At midday, Clarine returns. She sets a new tray on the windowsill.  
"I am returning to the village. The cook and some other servants have remained to serve the new king. They have been here so long that there is no one left at home to welcome them. I pray our paths will cross again someday. You have been a good friend." She bends to kiss my cheek.  
As she leaves, I call, "Clarine."  
"Yes, Kieve?"  
"If… if my family is still alive, will you tell them that I live?"  
"Yes, my dear. Shall I tell them anything else?" Clarine replies.  
"Yes. Tell them… tell them I am happy."  
"You do not seem to be happy." I tear my eyes from the window to look at Clarine. She looks worried for me.  
"I will be. Perhaps by the time you return home. Tell them I am happy, and not to worry."  
"I will. Good-bye, Kieve." Clarine says.  
"Farewell, Clarine. I will miss you."  
And then she is gone. I return to gazing out the window. I remain in the same place for a week. Three times a day, the cook or some other servant brings me meals, but I only eat one, if I remember to even eat that. The lady Morgana never comes. But the new king does. His name is Bors, and he has a queen, Evaine. They have an infant son named Lionel. All this the cook tells me when she brings me meals. The king comes into the room to meet me on the day of his arrival. He tries to strike up a conversation, but I will not look at him.  
"I am told your name is Lunete."  
"I don't answer to that name anymore."  
"What do you answer to?"  
I do not respond, so he tries another question. "Where are you from?"  
"A place I shall never return to."  
The king sighs. "Why do you sit up here all day? Why do you not work with the other servants?"  
"I am waiting."  
"Waiting for what?"  
"My mistress."  
"Your loyalty is extraordinary, madam." he says. I do not tell him that it is not loyalty, but love, that keeps me rooted to this place. "But you have a new mistress now."  
"I have only one mistress, sir."  
All the while I watch the forest from the window. Finally the king sighs and leaves the room. As he walks down the hall with the cook, I hear her say, "That is more than I have been able to get out of her all week, highness. I think that is all we'll ever hear from her."  
"What mistress does she speak of? Queen Arista?"  
"The Lady Morgana Pendragon."  
And then they have rounded a corner, and I can no longer hear them talking about me.  
Two months pass in the same fashion. Occasionally the king or the cook, and once the queen, try to get me to speak, but it is a lost cause. Then, on the night of Samhain, a raven flies through the window and rests on the arm of my chair. I am so startled by this that I look away from the window. "What on earth are you doing here? Shoo! Shoo!" I try to persuade the bird to leave, but it merely squawks at me, holding out its left leg. There is a scroll of paper tied to it. I unroll it, and suddenly Morgana's voice fills my head.  
"Kieve, I do not believe you know how to read, so I have enchanted this note with my voice so you can understand my message. I am alive. I have taken refuge with half of Helios's army in the Fortress of Ismere, across the mountains from Helios's castle. I anxiously await your arrival. Lady Morgana".  
I can barely breathe as her voice dies away. I realize a moment later that it is because I am crying so hard I cannot catch my breath. Morgana is alive. She is far, but she is alive, and I am more grateful than I can put into words. The raven squawks again, landing on my shoulder.   
"Good bird." I say, running a finger along its feathers. It nips my finger playfully. "I do not know the enchantment she used on the scroll," I tell it. "But if you could, please tell her I am coming." The raven crows one last time, then takes off out the open window. I watch it fly away, then I hurry down to the kitchens to pack some bread and cheese and a skin for water for the journey. And then I am gone, bidding farewell to no one. I make my way on foot toward the mountains. The climb through the range is hard and cold, but each step gets me closer to my beloved, and I do not mind the ice and snow so much.


	9. "You Are Where I Belong" (Dreams On Fire, by AR Rahman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New alliances and rekindled friendships. (I either have the summarization skills of a two year old, or I tell you nothing about what I'm supposed to be summarizing.)

I travel for a week. I run out of food on the second day. On the fourth, I discover that hunger teaches me how to kill using magic. I roast a rabbit that night. On the fifth day, I discover a bush of mulberries. I eat the mulberries for lunch, and carry some more in my bag in case I do not catch a rabbit for dinner. I don't. Instead, I come to a mountain stream filled with fish. I kill them one by one using magic, and collect them when they come to the surface. I kill three in all, and eat two for dinner. The third I eat for breakfast on the sixth day. That night, I reach the other side of the mountains. A stone tower rises high off the plains before me. There is nothing else around; this must be Morgana's fortress. I camp at the foot of the mountains that night, and in the morning I arise early to begin the final leg of my journey. I hurry through the plains.   
Sir Trevelian and Sir Gavan stand at the entrance. "Who are you?" Trevelian demands.  
"My name is Kieve. I have traveled from the castle of the late king Helios to be Lady Morgana's maidservant. Will you take me to her?" Gavan laughs, and I do not like the expression on his face.  
"The plains are crawling with Arthur's spies," he says, sneering at me. "You think we'd just let you walk into the fortress and have an audience with the queen?"  
"Sir Gavan, you know me. I was Lunete, Queen Arista's maid." I say, panic bubbling up within me. I've traveled a week, and now I'm going to be turned away.  
"Anyone might be a spy." Trevelian says when Gavan hesitates. "We'll take you to the dungeons. If she wishes you to be her servant, so be it. If not, then at least you won't be reporting our location to King Arthur." Gavan nods, taking me roughly by the arm and dragging me into the tower. He takes me down to the dungeons, tossing me into a cell and slamming the door. Gavan stands guard at the door.  
I only have to wait a few hours. The door to the dungeons slams open, making Sir Gavan and I jump. Lady Morgana is shouting angrily at the guards behind her. When she sees Gavan, she strides to him and grabs him around the throat. He gasps for air.  
"What the hell were you thinking? All visitors, be they spies, servants, soldiers, or King Arthur himself, are to be brought to me. Or were you drunk when I made that decree? You're lucky I don't send you to work in the caves for this, you lousy soldier! Get out of my sight before I decide to send you there anyway!" She releases him, and he retreats, whimpering Forgive me's as he hurries up the stairs. Morgana turns and sees me. She walks over to my cell and blasts the lock into millions of tiny shards with magic. The door flies open, and I'm up and running into her outstretched arms.  
"Morgana." I gasp, and suddenly I'm crying. "I thought you were dead."  
"I nearly was. Are you all right, Kieve?" she asks. I pull away, wiping my eyes, and nod.  
She smiles. "Come. Let's get you something to eat."  
I serve her for a year. Often she holds council with her allies. She has a druid sorcerer as her advisor now. His name is Ruadan, and I remember him from when I was a child. He did not live in my village, but visited often. He presided over the creation of the shrine for my brother and the other children who perished at the hand of Uther. He has a daughter, Sefa, who is younger than me. I never met her when I lived in my home village. She works as Queen Guinevere's maid, and passes information to her father, who in turn tells Morgana.  
"Uther killed his other two children, Sefa's older brother and sister." Morgana tells me one evening. That explains why he has a vendetta against Arthur. It seems everyone outside of Camelot hates the Pendragons for one reason or another. Despite Kilydd's death, I do not hate Arthur. I hadn't even known his father was to blame until recently. King Arthur has not personally wronged me. But Lady Morgana is older than him, and she is Uther's daughter, and so I believe Morgana is the rightful leader of Camelot.  
"I lost my brother to Uther's men," I say quietly. Since coming to the fortress I have served Morgana as usual, but we have become more like friends, conversing together as I dress and bathe her.  
"I am sorry to hear that. You never told me you had a brother." She says.  
"He was a year older than me," I reply. "His name was Kilydd. We were very close. One night Uther's knights invaded our village. They drowned dozens of children. My mother took my sister and me into the woods to hide, but my brother wanted to stay and fight with my father. We could not persuade him to come with us. At dawn my father came to fetch us. Without Kilydd. He was nine years old."  
"I am so sorry, Kieve."  
"He knew magic. He was the only child in our family with magic. At least, as children, he was the only one we knew had magic."  
"How old is your sister?" Morgana asks.  
"Kara is four years younger than me. She would be eighteen now, if she lives."  
"I should send someone to find your family and bring them here."  
"No. Do not dispatch men for my sake. I will see them someday. I do not know where to begin looking for them. They've surely left the village I am from since the raid, and I was a child; I do not know the way." I say.  
"Let me," Morgana says. "I want to do this for you, Kieve."  
"Do not trouble yourself," I say. I cannot be indebted to her. I am already so much in her debt; I cannot bear to have even more of an imbalance between us. Morgana sighs.  
"All right."


	10. "Say Something, I'm Giving Up On You" (Say Something, by A Great Big World)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends come and go, and dear loves disappear and reappear.

I continue to serve her, occasionally providing service to Ruadan as well, and Sefa when she visits. I feed and wash Aithusa, Lady Morgana's white dragon. Morgana introduced me to the dragon when I first arrived at the fortress. At first we were afraid of each other, Aithusa expressing her fear through aggression, and I hide behind Morgana as the dragon roars at me.   
"Aithusa." Morgana scolds, and the dragon backs off immediately. She lets me touch her, but it is a few days until she lets me near her without Morgana supervising the two of us. After a month, however, Aithusa comes to be fond of me. For the rest of the year we are cordial with each other.  
One morning, as I serve Morgana breakfast, she takes my hand. "Kieve," she says, and I look up at her. "Let me find your family. Please." she says again.  
"You are executing your next plan tomorrow. I can't ask that of you."   
Morgana laughs. "And how well have our various plans worked in the past?" Believe me, I can spare a man or two."  
I sigh. "All right."  
The next morning, Morgana dispatches three knights in search of the druids Cerys, Dafydd, and Kara. They are gone for three days. When they return, they are on their own.  
"My lady, we left in search of the druid village across the mountains, but we came across a Camelot knight. We captured him and returned to the fortress as quick as we could. He is in the dungeons." one says.  
"What part of 'bring all visitors to me' do you damned fools not understand?" Lady Morgana shouts. One of the three drops to the ground, gasping for air. Morgana steps over his body. "Come. I will see him. Then he is to be put to work in the caves with the others." The remaining knights follow her out of the room. The knight on the stone floor stops moving. The guards take his body away. It is Sir Cormac.  
That evening, as I am helping Morgana dress after her bath, a raven flies through the window, resting on Morgana's shoulder. She unrolls the scroll of his leg. "It is from Ruadan." Morgana says, and then she frowns. "He is dead. And Arthur is on his way to Ismere. Go tell the knights to double the guard, Kieve."  
I obey, hurrying down the stairs.  
The next day, I pour wine into Lady Morgana's goblet at the evening meal in her chambers. She takes a drink.  
"Your old friend paid me a visit today," she says as she slices into her roast chicken.  
I glance at her. "I don't have any friends." I say, baffled.  
"Mordred." Morgana says. "I tried to keep him here longer so you could see him."  
"Mordred was here?"  
"Yes. But he is disgusted with me. He's gone to Camelot."  
"Did he mention how he has been? The village? My parents? Kara?" I ask, leaning forward eagerly.  
"He didn't. He left very soon." She says. I exhale sadly. One of the knights enter the hall.  
"My lady, it is Arthur. He is in the caves." Morgana leaps up immediately.  
"Sound the bells," she says, hurrying out of the room.   
She is gone for a long time. The night turns to day, and I begin to worry. I start for the caves. I meet Sir Gavan in the hall. "Where is Lady Morgana?" I ask.  
"I do not know."  
"What happened?"  
"Arthur and his knights escaped, with Mordred in their number. Mordred stabbed Morgana as she tried to kill Arthur. But she has disappeared. So has the dragon. It seems the witch cannot die." He says. He is silent a moment, then adds, "We do not know where she has run to. Perhaps she will heal herself and return, or summon us to her new hideaway."  
"I thought Mordred left?" I ask, confused.  
"It seems he returned to try to save Arthur." Gavan replies.  
"Thank you," I tell him my stomach tumbling. Where on earth can she be? I go up to her chambers and take a few of her herbs. Out on the freezing plains, I kneel in the snow and burn the herbs. I murmur a prayer to Badh, the goddess of life, asking that she watch over her priestess and keep her safe. Then I return to the fortress. I sit in Morgana's room and watch the window, just as I did in King Helios's castle as I awaited Morgana's return. I do not know from where she will come, and I supposed the direction her window faces is as good a guess as any. I know someone will seek me out if she returns and I do not observe her on the plains, as I am her maidservant. I barely see anything in the swirling snow outside of the window; before my eyes, all I see is my mistress's face, smiling her genuine smile. I do not hear the icy wind, but only my love speaking my name.  
I sleep. I dream of Morgana. I dream of her every night. Sometimes in my dreams she is dead, her fern eyes staring up at the sky, never to see again. Sometimes she lies facedown in a cave or a dungeon, bleeding profusely from her back. Sometimes she stands in a tall tower, wearing the green gown from ten years ago. She calls my name, sends ravens into the air who are prevented from reaching me, whispers "I love you" into the sky. Once, she turns into a raven and flies to the Fortress of Ismere, and lands on the sill of the window, squawking madly at me until I awaken to find I am once more alone in the dark chambers.  
I eat when the guards bring me food, which is not often. When they enter, I always ask if there is any word from my mistress. They have no answer for me.  
There is silence for four months. In the halls, I hear whisperings of rumors. Morgana has enchanted Camelot's queen. The queen is healed. Morgana is hunting for an old ally who turned on her. The months pass slow, and, though these ideas reach me, I feel starved for information. I choose to believe the rumors; it is better than thinking she is dead. There is nothing to do but wait. Three times Sir Gavan tries to force me to go back to work, threatening me with beatings, death, even rape. When he suggests he will rape me, I finally stand and turn my attention away from the window to glare at him.  
"I have magic, Gavan. If you dare do so much as touch me, I will kill you. I promise this. Your old, damned king threatened me a few years ago, and I threw him against a wall. Much worse will await you if you try to take me." I say in warning.  
He glares at me, but leaves the room.  
After four months have past, a raven flies through the window. I start. The raven lands on my shoulder and squawks at me. It bears no scroll, but I am certain it is one of Morgana's birds.  
Suddenly there are running footsteps outside of the door. Three knocks. Then Sir Trevelian opens the door. "Lunete-"  
"Kieve, Trevelian," I correct him.  
"Yes, right. Kieve. Come down to the entrance hall. You'll never guess who's here." He smiles at me, and leaves the room. I glance at the raven, who remains balanced on my shoulder. We leave the room and make for the entrance hall. At the head of the staircase, just before the front door, the raven takes off, soaring and cawing through the air. It lands on the shoulder of the figure standing before the door. A woman, with black hair and a black gown, fern-colored eyes and a radiant smile, her face turned up and looking at me.  
"Morgana." I say, and I walk down the stairs. She moves toward the steps to meet me at the foot of the stairs.   
"Kieve." She says, still smiling. She embraces me tightly.  
"Where have you been, my lady?" I ask when we pull away.  
"Many places, doing many things," she says idly, waving a hand. "I have declared war on Camelot. We invade the kingdom at dawn. We shall attack the patrol first. Soon we shall march on the plains of Camlann, it has been foretold. But for now, we will raid outlying villages loyal to Arthur." she turns to Sir Trevelian, who stands against the wall in the hall. "Fetch the knights and the Saxons I have brought with me. I will tell them the plan." she tells him. He bows and departs.  
A week later a band of Morgana's Saxons return, reporting that they have murdered several patrols along the border of Albion. "Very good," Morgana says. We shall leave them alone for now. Raid a village or two a week, and then retreat. Soon the one will come who will provide us with the most essential information."  
"And what information is that, my lady?" one of the Saxons inquires.  
"The identity of the one the druids call Emrys." she responds.  
"And who will tell us this, my lady?"  
"I do not yet know. That will be revealed to me when the moment comes."  
We only need to wait a week. I am serving Lady Morgana dinner when one of the guards enters the dining hall.  
"My lady," he says, bowing. "A man is here to see you."


	11. "Death Is So Full, and Man So Small" (After the Storm, by Mumford and Sons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good news, bad news, and mental devastation.

"What is his name?" Morgana asks.  
"Mordred, my lady." She smiles and looks up at me.  
"Well. It seems we will know Emrys's identity before the night is out." she says, standing. "Bring him to my throne room after I go in." she tells the guard. The guard bows, and leaves the room. Morgana follows. She turns when she reaches to doorway. "Kieve. Do you not wish to see your childhood friend?"  
"Of course, I do," I say, hastening to follow her to the throne room. I stand at her right side as she sits upon the throne. The guard escorts a man with dark, curly hair into the room. He bows low to Morgana. When he looks up, I can see that he truly is Mordred. He looks very much like he did as a child. Something dark and suffering dances behind his eyes. I wonder what has happened.  
"I have come to tell you I am no longer on Camelot's side. I am no longer a friend to Arthur. And I bring you the news you have longed for." he says.  
Morgana leans forward, expectantly. "Arthur's death?" she asks.  
"The key to it," Mordred replies. "I was mistaken to question your wisdom. I wish to make amends for it."  
"Tell me your news, Mordred. Enough of these hints."  
"There is someone you have been searching for, one who has eluded you at every turn." He begins.  
"Emrys." Morgana answers.   
"I know where he is."  
"Where?"  
"Camelot. And I have his true name. It is Merlin."  
Morgana stares at him in shock. "Merlin?"  
"Yes, my lady. Arthur's manservant."  
"Thank you for this information, Mordred. You may go. Trevelian, prepare a room for our new knight." Morgana says.  
"Yes, my lady." Trevelian says.  
Mordred sighs and shuts his eyes for a moment, and then exits behind Trevelian. After a moment, Morgana turns to me.  
"You want to speak to Mordred." It is not a question.  
"Yes, my lady." I say.  
"Go, dear. I can finish my meal myself." Morgana says, waving in the direction of the door. I obey.  
Mordred is outside, near the gates. He is partly facing away from me.  
I approach him. His face is pained, and as I come closer, I see that there are tears running down his cheeks.  
"Mordred?" I ask, and he starts. Hurriedly wiping his tears on his sleeve, he turns to me.  
"Hello, Kieve." he mutters.  
"What is it?" I ask, reaching out to touch him. He takes a step back. He forces a smile, shaking his head.  
"Nothing. What did you need?"  
"I had a question for you."  
"What is it?" he asks. I hesitate, unsure if it is my place to inquire. "Tell me," he says when I am silent.  
"What made you join Morgana? She said you were one of Arthur's knights. What made you leave him?"  
Mordred doesn't answer. After a few moments, tears stream down his face, full force. I reach out to him, and this time he lets me hold him.  
"Mordred. What is it? What happened?"  
"He…" he hiccups for air. "He killed her. Arthur killed her."  
"Killed who, Mordred?" I ask gently. He pulls away, and looks at me, eyes filled with sadness. He is silent for a long time. Then he looks away and speaks.  
"Kieve, Kara's dead."  
I stare at him for a long time. I feel hollow. In two words, I have learned the entire story of what became of my sister. She survived the raid twelve years ago. She did not get captured or killed by any subsequent raids. She was alive up until about a week ago. I hadn't even gotten to see her. In twelve years she never knew if I had lived or died, and she took that uncertainty to her grave. She is gone forever, and I will never see her again. Until now it has always been a small, distant hope that one day our paths would cross once more. I held onto that hope, that stubborn belief that she lived, because to allow myself to believe anything else would be to give in to despair. And now she is dead. There is no more hope, no foolish prayer of life.   
I barely realize what I am doing as a turn and walk away from Mordred without another word. I wander aimlessly through the castle. In what seems almost instantaneous, I am standing at the very top of the fortress. The wind from the coming storm whips through my orange hair and olive gown. There is no more hope. My parents may live yet, but they will die all too soon. My brother is dead. My sister is dead. Death is all I can see in my mind. I move to climb over the rail.  
"Kieve."   
I turn, one hand still on the cold iron rail. Lady Morgana watches me in silence.  
"She's gone." The words sound foreign on my own lips. I repeat myself. "She's gone. She's dead!" I scream to the dark, roaring sky.  
"I know. I know, Kieve." Morgana calls to me. Her voice penetrates through my thoughts, which are whirling and chaotic like the sky. They bombard against each other, against my skull. I can barely hear over the roaring in my mind. I want it all to end. It is too much.   
Morgana reaches out to me. "Mordred told me." she continues. "Please, Kieve. Don't do this."  
I am silent for a few minutes, tears streaming down my face. "What else can I do? My head."  
"I know. It's happened to me, too. I've lost my sister, too. Come here, Kieve."  
I hold my pounding, swirling head in my hands. "Kieve." Morgana calls. "Come back to me." I stand straight, finally, the wind howling in my ears, and I make my way toward her. I am sure even Kara's ghost could not have pulled me back from the dark abyss I stand just above, but Morgana's voice has. After the first few steps I start running. I fly into her arms. As soon as she touches me, everything dissipates. The raging storm in my mind settles, and the clouds in the sky disappear. The sky is blue, the sun shines, and birds sing in the plains. I hug her as tightly as I can, sobbing.  
"There," Morgana says gently after awhile. "Here's my girl." She kisses the top of my head.


	12. "How Long Til We Call This Love?" (Distance, by Christina Perri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW and "Oh, that's where we get the title."  
> Warning: sexual content

I am quiet for several days. Morgana orders to have a guard watch me at all hours of the day. Often Morgana herself watches me, but she has plans to seize Camelot, and is typically in conference with her advisors and main knights. Occasionally Mordred is my guard. We sit and talk about home, Kara, my parents (alive and well when Mordred last saw them).  
Morgana surprises me one day with a jet black horse. "In case you need her one day," she says, a strange look in her eyes.  
"Thank you," I tell her, petting its mane.  
"What shall you name her?" she asks, smiling at my pleased look.  
I only have to think for a moment. She is dark as night. I name her Andraste, the goddess of the moon.

Morgana stands in the tub and steps onto the stone floor. She dries her body herself. I watch her run the towel down her skin, breathless as always. I am so caught up in her beauty and the sensations running through me that I do not notice she has turned to me.  
"Kieve, what are you staring at?"  
I look away quickly, praying I am just imagining the feel of the blush crawling up my cheeks like a blossoming rose.  
"Nothing, my Lady," I respond, hoping she does not hear the nervous shake of my voice.  
She approaches me slowly. She rests a soft hand on my cheek and pushes gently to coax me to look at her. My heart flutters and my stomach swoops uncomfortably at the touch. It is all I can do to keep my gaze firmly on those harsh and gorgeous fern-colored eyes with the long, black eyelashes.  
"You were staring, my dear." She says, softly, her tone an assault on my ears, and I instantly forget whatever I am going to say in reply. I stare at her dumbly, wide-eyed. Her eyes flicker downward, then back up at my face.  
"You always stare." Her voice is a whisper now, breathless and almost inaudible.  
"I-I do?" I gasp out quietly when I can control my tongue and lips once more. She nods, her fingers grazing my hips.  
"What are you afraid of, Kieve?" She takes my hand and raises it to her bare breast. The smooth pale skin pulses below my sweating palm, but I don't know if it's her heartbeat or mine.  
"Hmm?" She prompts, and I remember her question. I shrug a little, staring at my hand on her white flesh. I glance up at her face, and she smiles at me. "All you have to do is ask, sweet one." Then she takes both of my hands and pulls them down the curves of her body to rest at her waist. I feel her soft, smooth, bare skin slide beneath my fingers and a shudder ripples through me. Morgana smiles. Her hands rest over mine for a moment, before she moves them to my chest. Even under layers of clothing, the skin of my breasts prickles with arousal at the touch.  
She moves in and her tongue flicks at my chapped lips. She makes a soft humming noise before she presses her lips against my own. I sigh into the kiss, gripping her sides and pulling her beautiful, sensuous, naked body closer to mine. Finally, finally, after years of wanting this so badly it hurt, her flesh is finally pressed against me, and she is kissing me with as much apparent need as I am feeling.  
"Morgana," I moan when she pulls away. I open my eyes and see her smiling, her lust-blown green eyes staring deeply into my own, and for a second I believe she can see through them, and into every fantasy I have ever had of her and I together.  
"Turn around, Kieve," she says hoarsely. I look at her in confusion until she spins me around herself and begins unlacing the brown dress I am wearing. Her fingers move nimbly down my back, and she kisses and sucks the back of my neck as she does it. I whimper with desire and move my hands behind me, trying to help her. Our hands start tangling together, slowing down the process. Finally, she hits my clumsy fingers away.  
She leans in and murmurs into my ear, "Let me do it." Her authoritative tone immediately reminds me that she is queen. But then she nips my earlobe, and I forget her royal status and my station of servitude.  
Finally the garment falls away and Morgana sets to work on my corset. When that has been tossed away, I spin around and pull her to me. Lust fills my stomach like hot soup, and it is as though a rope is tied to both our cores, pulling me closer and closer to her.  
Her mouth falls upon the tender skin in the place my shoulder connects to my neck, and I flinch when her teeth pinch my skin. I moan with longing and pull her back up to meet my lips.  
After a long kiss, Morgana pulls away. "We can't do this standing up," She pants. "Come here." She takes my hand in hers and drags me to her bed.  
We fall upon the mattress in a tangle of limbs and bare skin. She kisses me from my jawline to my belly button and then there is a knock at the door. She trails her tongue down my belly and then raises her head.  
"I am bathing," she says in a steady, annoyed voice. "What do you want?"  
"My lady, you are wanted in the throne room." Sir Mordred's voice filters through the thick wooden door.  
"Has Arthur been captured?" Morgana asks, and bows her head down, burying her face in the curly, dark hair between my legs, her tongue massaging the skin beneath, and I shudder and weave my fingers through her long, black hair.  
"No, my Lady," Mordred says. "But--"  
"Is Arthur dead?" Morgana cuts him off, raising her head once more, and then blows the hair and skin there. I exhale with a huff, throwing my head back onto the pillow. I tighten my grip on her hair.  
"No, my Lady, but--"  
"Has Merlin been captured or killed?" Morgana says, pulling herself back up onto the bed and pressing her lips to my temple.  
"No, my Lady."  
"Then clearly whatever it is can wait until after I have washed, Mordred," Morgana says in an irritated tone. "Go away, dear."  
"Yes, my Lady," Mordred answers, and I hear his footsteps die away.  
Morgana looks back into my eyes. "Now, where were we?" She doesn't wait for a response, but leans in and flicks her tongue around and around my left nipple, her licks getting slower and slower until her mouth closes around the taut skin and she sucks. I let out a cry and grip her shoulders.  
"Morgana," I gasp. "Morgana."  
"Kieve." she says, then shifts to tongue my other nipple. My breath comes ragged, and I can barely think, save for the realization that I have waited day in and day out for a decade for this, never daring to hope that she would truly want me in return.  
She kisses down my neck, her hand toying with the hairs between my legs. She runs a finger slowly and cautiously around the curve of skin along the opening there. I moan, and she looks up at me nervously. I stare into her green eyes.  
"Are you all right, Kieve?" she asks gently.  
"Yes," I pant, "Oh, gods, yes." She smiles and her fingers move into the opening deftly. She goes down to get a better look as she fingers the skin on both sides. She runs her hand from the first hole to the middle. I shudder and gasp. She massages the place between the holes, and I cry out. She massages it until I'm panting heavily, then runs one finger down to the center and pushes it slowly into my vagina.  
"Oh." I gasp, barely aware of what I am saying as her finger moves deeper and deeper, the tip rubbing gently against the inner walls until I cry out, a violent tremor of pleasure rocketing through my body from the place she touches. She withdraws her finger and I moan in disappointment. She laughs quietly and puts two fingers in this time. Both of them rub the spot, more vigorously than before, and I am panting and moaning and whispering her name as the tremors come more frequent and stronger, reaching a crescendo. It is finally so strong that I cannot breathe to cry out. I am rooted to the bed as she withdraws her fingers, panting and remembering the head splitting, earth shaking fire of pleasure still coursing through my veins, growing ever slower, smaller, calmer.  
Morgana rolls off of me and moves up to my head again. She runs her fingers through my hair, smiling at me.  
"Morgana." I whisper. She smiles gently.  
"I love you, Kieve. I have for a long time now."  
I stare at her in awe. I cannot speak, can barely breathe. She watches me quietly, and I finally find my voice. "I love you, too, Morgana," I whisper. "I always have. From the first moment I saw you."  
"I had a towel on my head," she says. I laugh, and she joins in.  
"Yes," I agree. "And I could barely breathe, you were so beautiful. You were even more beautiful than the servants said. Even with a towel on your head."  
She smiles, dropping her gaze to her fingers, now swirling circles into my chest. "You are beautiful, too, Kieve. I can't believe the damned queen Arista told you you were ugly. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on." She looks up and meets my eyes again. "And you are good. And kind. You are terrifying when you want to be. You are loyal to the ends of the earth. And you are miserable at keeping secrets."  
I frown at the last statement. "What?" I say. She laughs.  
"I knew you loved me from the first night I stayed in Helios's castle. You cannot take your eyes off me. And you're always waiting for my return, when servants just as loyal as you would have sought other employment." she says, smiling. I smile back. I had tried hard to keep my love a secret, but now I see it wasn't hard enough.  
"Now, what about me?" she asks. "Has something broken in me since you first met me, as Mordred was so keen to identify?"  
I think for a moment. "No. You are more ambitious, to be sure. And you have a talent for being incredibly frightening with barely any effort on your part. But I believe your intentions to be good. And you are still as kind as you were when I met you ten years ago. You have to be formidable to succeed in your cause, I know that. You have so many enemies. But you have not lost your generosity, your goodness. I would not still love you otherwise, Morgana." I say, dropping my gaze when I come to the last part. I can feel a blush crawling up my cheeks.  
She kisses me then, long and sweet on the lips, her hand trailing down my naked body. The kiss deepens, and soon I am on top of her. I have no experience with sex, so I repeat what she did to me. I find that kissing the very center of the base of her neck sets her gasping and moaning, her eyelids fluttering. Pair that with my thumb gently rubbing her hip, front to back, and the moans are louder, and occasionally she gasps my name, making my breath vanish for a moment. I am fascinated with the knowledge that I can elicit this kind of reaction from her, and I am filled with joy that she allows me to do it.  
When I get to her vaginal area, I slow down, pressing one finger in and then the other, each with a brief touch to her clitoris. "Ki--Kieve," she gasps, and I look up at her. "Th-three." she breathes. I stare at her a moment, and then slowly insert three fingers into her vagina. She cries out louder than any other time I put my fingers in. I cannot help but smile smugly at my success. I begin to work the spot of pleasure, gradually gaining speed until she is panting and whimpering and groaning, "Oh! Oh!" I can see the feeling mounting as her hips rise slightly off the bed. With one more cry of pleasure from Morgana, I withdraw my fingers. Her hips fall back onto the mattress, and she pants. Her eyes are shut tight, and I can see beads of sweat on her forehead.  
"Oh, gods," Morgana moans quietly. I kiss her between the legs, and she inhales sharply, sighing in exhale. "Come here, you wonderful woman," she says softly, looking down at me. I pull myself back up to her height. She wraps her arm around my shoulders as I lay back down beside her. We smile at each other for awhile.  
"We are marching to Camlann tomorrow," Morgana says finally. She looks at me. "We will outnumber Camelot's knights nearly two to one. This time, Arthur will die, and I will rule over Camelot at last." I smile and do not speak. After a moment, Morgana adds, "When I am queen, I don't want you to be my maidservant anymore. Will you rule beside me as my companion, as my queen?" she asks. I stare at her, unable to speak.  
"I--What?" I gasp out, finally.  
"I love you, Kieve. I want to be beside you for the rest of my days. I don't want a false relationship, like many monarchs. I don't want to be married to a king when I love you." she says.  
"You mean you want to marry me?" I ask quietly, certain I am hearing wrong.  
"Yes, in a way. We can have a ceremony and everything, if you like."  
"Morgana." Is all I can say in reply. I stare at her, and slowly my smile grows wider. "Morgana."  
She smiles back at me. "That is not an answer," she laughs.  
I laugh back. "Yes. I mean yes." We laugh and she leans over to kiss me, and we laugh and kiss more.  
When we are quiet, I sit up. Morgana grabs my hand. I turn to look at her. "I leave tomorrow. Please, stay with me tonight."  
I smile fondly down at her. Then I lay back down.  
We are silent for a little bit. Then Morgana rolls over to face me. "Your incredible loyalty reminds me of a fox I once came across." She says. When I look at her blankly, she continues, "When I first fled from Camelot, I lived in a small hut in the forest. On my second day I was searching for food. When I came into a clearing near my hovel, I found a fox den. Nearby, strewn across the forest floor was a litter of dead fox kits. There were six in all. There was the body of a grown male fox laying some distance from the kit carcasses. Beside her mate sat a vixen. When I tried to approach the poor widowed animal, she snarled at me, but did not move from her place of vigil.  
"I visited the clearing several times in my months as an exile. For the first few days, the vixen remained beside her mate as it decomposed. I observed her for about a year. I have returned to the clearing periodically throughout the past four years. I never saw a new mate, but I always found her. I do not know if that is typical behavior for foxes, but her loyalty and love was clear, potentially defying age-old instinct. It was inspiring.  
"When I was first separated from you, I dreamt often of the vixen. Then, one night, I dreamt of the vixen running through the forest. I followed her until we reached the foot of Helios's castle. The vixen vanished, and I looked up upon the stone towers. In the window, I saw you, your red hair flowing down your shoulders. When I awoke, all I could see in my mind was the image of you in the window, looking more like my vixen friend than I had noticed before.  
"After the second time I was separated from you, Sir Gavan told me of how you would sit in my room and watch the window, waiting for me. I think he meant for the story to get you in trouble, but I was reminded of my dream, and of my friend the Vixen. I could not get the fox to trust me as her friend, but it seems the goddess has blessed me with my own vixen." She smiles at me when her story is over. I return the expression. She kisses my lips. "I love you, my vixen." she says.  



	13. "No Need to Say Good-Bye" (The Call, by Regina Spektor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We reach Camlann.

Mordred awakens us early the next morning, hammering on the door. "My lady," he calls. "The knights are ready to march to Camlann."  
Morgana kisses my lips and then rises. "You have the sword I gave you?" she calls to him.  
"Yes."  
"Good. I will be down shortly." she says.   
We help each other dress. "Let me come with you." I say. She smiles and kisses me once more.   
"Not this time, my dearest."  
"But, Morgana--"  
"I will return, I promise. No mortal blades can kill me. I am a high priestess." she says. She smiles. "I'll be okay, Kieve."  
"But--" she stops me with a kiss.  
"No more. I'll come back to you." she says. I want to argue, but I know it will be pointless. I let her go. She kisses me one last time before she leaves the castle.  
"Don't just sit and wait for me this time, my dutiful vixen," she murmurs in my ear as she hugs me. "Find something to distract you. Do not worry about me." And then she is gone.   
I stand and stare at the door for a long time, unsure of what to do. I have no friends in the fortress save for Morgana. I do not know when she will be back, but I go to the kitchens all the same and begin to cook her favorite meal for when she returns.  
It is prepared in a few hours, and sits on a platter beside the fire. I sit in the kitchen for another hour, thinking. I replay last night in my head, touch the places on my body where Morgana touched. I wander around the castle for awhile, go outside to strain to hear the sounds of war, but Camlann is too far away. I burn incense and murmur a prayer to the Morrigan, the war goddess, asking her to return Morgana to me alive. I sleep for a little while after midnight, too anxious for Morgana's return to rest well.  
At dawn I awaken to footsteps outside on the plain. Out of the window I see Morgana and her army arriving at the fortress. I run through the castle and reach the door just as Morgana is walking in. She smiles at me, but it is forced. I embrace her and she kisses my forehead. Her advisors turn away, pretending not to see.  
"You see, my love?" she says, and my heart skips a beat at the endearment. "I have returned, alive and well."  
"Something is wrong, though," I say, looking at her. "I can see it in your eyes."  
"Mordred is dead." she says quietly. "And Arthur is missing."  
"I am sorry on both counts," I say. "Will you go to Camelot?"  
"No. Though Mordred did stab Arthur, there is a possibility that he lives. I will not make the same mistake I did long ago. As long as I cannot see his dead body, he may still be capable of taking Camelot back." she says.  
I nod, and suddenly remember the meal I prepared. "Are you hungry, my lady?" I ask.  
"I am, but you don't need to call me 'my lady' anymore, Kieve."  
"Force of habit. I will fetch something to eat." I reply, and hurry to the kitchens. I warm the meal in the fire, then take it up to her.  
"Thank you, Kieve. It is my favorite meal. Will you eat with me?" she says. Her smile is still forced, but I do not mention it. I nod and sit beside her. "I have sent a few Saxons in search of Arthur," she says as we eat. "Emrys has vanished, as well. But he is Arthur's servant; I am more than certain he is with the damned king. The question is: where is he?"  
We finish eating. One of the guards enters after the meal to tell Morgana that the knights have returned. She goes to the throne room to hear their report while I clear the table. I return to the throne room just as a knight is being carried out. He is dead; the report must have been bad. I enter the room. Morgana sits on the stone throne, her head bowed low. She grips the arms of the throne tightly.  
"They do not know where he is, Kieve," she says without looking up. "They say that they have searched everywhere, but clearly they haven't, or else they'd have FOUND HIM!" her voice increases as she speaks, until she is shouting. I do not flee, I do not look away. Finally Morgana calms. "I'm sorry, Kieve," she says quietly, looking away. Her chest continues to rise and fall. I approach her slowly. I place my hand on her cheek, and she leans into it.  
"You will find him. You will kill Emrys, you will make sure Arthur is killed, and you will become queen of Camelot. Do not fret, my love. All will happen as fate dictates." I say. She smiles, a true one this time.  
"And you will be my wife. Magic will be allowed in the kingdom, and we will find your family and bring them to Camelot to see you again."' she says, and I return her smile.  
We pass the day in varying levels of frustration and calm. We do not sleep that night, but sit in the throne room, awaiting report from the remaining knights searching for Arthur. We speak rarely, but hold hands for hours. Close to dawn, I doze off lightly, waking with a start when a squawk echoes throughout the stone room. A raven flies to Morgana. She unrolls the scroll tied to its leg.  
"It is from Eira." she says, smiling as she continues to read. "She knows where Merlin is taking Arthur." she looks up at the guards just inside the door. "Summon my escorts. We leave at daybreak."  
She smiles at me as the guard leaves. "At last I will have my damned brother in my grasp." she says happily, kissing me passionately. I smile weakly, still in the trappings of a strange dream. An ivory, transparent human-like figure, telling me to come find it in the caves. I see Morgana off, and as she rides away with her guards, I head down to the caves below the fortress.   
No one has been down here since Morgana was stabbed. I carry a torch through the passageways. I trip on a jagged part of the floor. As I fall, the torch burns out. Before I can catch myself, I slam my head on the stone wall. And then everything is dark.  
I awaken sometime later, a faint blue light surrounding me. I look around, and find the creature from my dream. "Are you what Morgana was searching for?" I ask it. The creature nods. "I am the Diamair, the key to all knowledge."  
"Why did you want to see me?" I say.  
"Your queen is in danger. At this very moment she has walked into a trap. Soon she shall know the true whereabouts of the dying King Arthur and his servant Emrys. She will die if she finds them." it says. My heart stops; I had feared this was what the creature would tell me.  
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.  
The creature watches me a moment. "It seems I have a weakness for lovers. You should leave now if you wish to reach your love in time."  
"Where can I find them?" I ask hurriedly.  
"Travelling toward the lake of Avalon. I will give you the knowledge of the way," it replies, touching my head with its long fingers.  
I do not ask how it knows we are in love. "Thank you. I am forever in your debt," I say, hurrying out of the caves. The creature walks with me so I can see my way out. When I reach the plain, I take off at a run toward the stables. I pass Sir Trevelian.  
"Where are you going, Kieve?" he asks, but I am in too much of a hurry to answer.   
I place a saddle on Andraste and lead her out to the plains. I mount her, and we take off at a swift gallop towards the mountains. In my mind, I can see the way to the lake. It is very far, and I fear I will not reach Morgana in time. I lean forward, and murmur a prayer against Andraste's neck to the goddess of horses, Rhiannon, to bless Andraste with the speed and stamina of a hundred horses, so that we may get to Morgana. As if Rhiannon has answered my prayers already, I feel Andraste's speed increase as we reach the foot of the mountains.


	14. "I'll Be Waiting Here, For You" (Kingdom Come, by The Civil Wars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Kieve reach Morgana in time?

We ride fast through the mountains. When we come to Camlann, I slow the horse down. We keep to the cliffs and the forest for cover. There are still knights on the field, carrying casualties back to Camelot. Once the forest expands around me, I kick Andraste's sides, and we run past trees and underbrush. After some time, we pass ripped pieces of rope tied to two trees. I wonder if that is remains of where Morgana was ambushed. We ride on.  
When the trees become too thick, I dismount. I pull Andraste's reins and walk the rest of the way. I travel quickly through the woods, my vision moving further ahead than my body, instructing me where to go. I do not meet anyone until I reach a small clearing. I remain behind a large, old tree as a man with dark hair leads two black horses through the woods, a man with blond hair riding, slumped over, on one of the horses. He turns to look behind him, and the man on foot follows suit. The man on horseback I recognize as Arthur. He looks pale and haggard, definitely dying. The man below him must be Merlin. I follow the direction of their glance, and the breath disappears from my lungs. A figure in a dark garment lies, unmoving, on the ground of the clearing. And then they have disappeared, the forest swallowing the men with its foliage.  
I run out into the clearing, Andraste following me. I release her reins and drop to my knees before Morgana. "Morgana." I whisper, placing a hand on her belly. I feel wetness, and when I pull away, dark red blood drips from my palm. She has been stabbed. Her breaths are very shallow. "Morgana, my darling. Wake up. Wake up! You promised me no mortal blade would kill you." I gasp, tears pooling in my eyes. Morgana's eyes flutter open weakly. She smiles a little, and reaches her hand up to my face.  
"Kieve. This is not the mark of a mortal blade," she gasps. She can barely speak, and her eyes are foggy and unfocused. "The sword was forged in a dragon's breath, like… like Mordred's." she tries to catch her breath, but she is too weak.  
"Tell me what I can do. How can I save you?" I ask desperately.  
"It is too late, vixen."  
"No. Please. There must be a way. I won't lose you, Morgana." the tears in my eyes begin to fall.  
"There is… one way. The lake…of Avalon. There is an island in the middle. The Sidhe have magic that will save me." her voice is ragged. She closes her eyes, and breathes no more. She is gone, but I have hope that I can bring her back to me. Careful not to disturb her wound, I lift her up, one arm cradling her head, the other under her knees.  
"Andraste," I call, my voice barely more than a whisper. I try not to look at Morgana's still body. The docile creature approaches me obediently. She sniffs Morgana once, and folds her legs so she is sitting on the forest floor without being asked. She is smarter than any horse I have ever seen. "Thank you," I tell her. I mount her, and lay Morgana's body across the saddle in front of me. "I'm sorry. That must feel uncomfortable," I murmur to her corpse. She does not respond, of course, but still I do not doubt the Sidhe's power to restore her to life, to me. I am prepared to die for her, should the Sidhe ask for payment. My life is all I have to give, and I will gladly do so.  
We ride at a canter, moving quickly, but not so quickly that I cannot keep Morgana's body on the horse before me. It is not far now, I know, just through the next copse of trees, down a hill in a clearing, and past one more row of the forest, and the lake will open up before me. I wonder whether Arthur and Emrys have reached the shores yet, if Arthur has been saved, if fate is reversed twice, and we will once more be at war. All this battle. I am tired of it.   
As we ride through the forest, I realize just how tired I am. So, so very tired of everything. My mind runs as we canter, and I think before I can stop myself that, should Morgana be dead for good, I will welcome death myself with relief. Morgana is the only reason I have lived this long. I think death will come soon for me, and I am not afraid or resistant of that knowledge. I have lived a half-life all my days, as a reluctant servant, a secret admirer, an ever loyal lover. I have not fulfilled much in my twenty-two years. It is an early age to die, but I realize I have no ambitions. I never wanted to be queen, only to live the rest of my days by Morgana's side. It seems a small thing to ask, but until two days ago, it seemed impossible, a tremendous wish. Yesterday I felt I had finally achieved it, like I had the world finally in my grasp. Perhaps my parents live on. With Morgana as queen, I could go looking for them, and bring them back with me to Camelot. Yet if Morgana is gone forever….  
We reach the crest of a green hill, and I banish all thoughts of death. From here, I can see the lake, the island with the stone tower, the gate way to Avalon, the world of the Sidhe. I look down at my deceased love. "We are nearly there, Morgana," I murmur, leaning down to kiss her forehead. I urge Andraste onward.  
We ride down the hill and through the final copse of trees. When the lake is before me, I pull Andraste to a halt. Merlin sits on the shore, staring off across the lake. Andraste snorts and stomps, and the man jumps violently at the sound. He turns quickly. He has been crying.  
"Who are you?" he asks, staring at me in surprise. "Why… why have you got Morgana's body?"  
"What are you doing here?" I say, staring back. He doesn't answer me, still staring at Morgana. I pat Andraste, and she lies down on the sand. I carry Morgana to the water.   
"What are you doing?" Merlin asks.  
"Bringing her back." I say, wading into the water.  
"But she's dead. The Sidhe can only heal, not bring someone back from the dead." He says.  
My stomach plummets. I had been afraid of that. I continue to wade in the water, but I know if Emrys says it is a lost cause, then it almost certainly is.  
"Miss…. Madam, it's over. I'm sorry." He says.  
"I won't lose her!" I shout, scooping water into my hand and pouring it over her wound, her face, her lips. Merlin watches me from the shore. When Morgana does not awaken, I stand in the water, my arms circling Morgana's body, tears streaming down my face.  
"I'm sorry." Merlin says quietly. "What's your name?"  
"Kieve." I say finally. "I'm Kieve."  
"I'm Merlin, Kieve," he says. I turn to face him.  
"I know. I was Morgana's servant."  
"Come." Merlin says. "I'll help you give her a proper burial." Reluctantly, I pull Morgana out of the lake. Merlin looks to the lake, and murmurs something. His eyes glow gold, and suddenly a boat rests on the sand. We gather grass and flowers to fill the boat. I turn to Morgana when we are finished, and try my best to focus my energies. Slowly, I lift Morgana by magic, bringing her across the shore and laying her to rest on the boat. A shining dagger falls from a leather sheathe she kept under her skirt. When she is on the boat, I pick up the dagger. I unclasp the sheathe from her leg and fasten it around my own, sheathing the dagger once more. The weight is foreign on my leg, but I feel her presence in the blade resting against my thigh.  
"You have magic?" Merlin says. I glance at him, nodding.  
"I was born a druid." I tell him. Then I push the boat of the shoreline and watch it float out to the lake. When it is in the middle of the lake, I look at Merlin. "Now," I say. "Set it on fire, please. I am not skilled in controlling my magic." When I turn back, the boat is in flames. I sink to my knees on the shoreline, my breaths coming in gasps. Merlin says nothing. Andraste approaches me, nudges me with her nose. I hug her head for a moment.  
"Go home," I say, pulling away. She looks at me quietly, unmoving. I stand. "Go! Go home, Andraste. I'll be back soon, okay?" She looks at me for a moment more, then turns and gallops off into the woods. I know, watching her leave, that I will never see her again. I will be dead before the sun rises tomorrow.


	15. "Bring Me Your Love Tonight" (As Much As I Ever Could, by City and Colour)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vixen tries to return to her mate.

The sun sets, and I am still sitting at the edge of the lake. I hear Merlin trudging around behind me. I cannot believe I am so close to one of Morgana's worst enemies, no doubt the one who murdered her.  
"Where is Arthur?" I say finally, my voice sounding tired to my own ears. Merlin stops walking from behind me. He comes to sit beside me.  
"He's dead. He's in the lake now."  
"How are you still alive?" I ask. I feel lost without Morgana. She's all I was living for, and now she is gone. The thoughts that ran through my head in the woods are coming flooding back to me now. I know I will die after Merlin goes to sleep for the night.  
He is silent for a long time, staring out at the darkening lake with me. Finally, he says, "I cannot die. I've tried."  
"You're immortal?" I ask, so surprised that I turn away from the water, looking at him.  
Merlin nods. "It seems my destiny is to wait until Arthur returns."  
"When will that happen?" I ask. He shrugs, still staring at the lake.  
"The Great Dragon, Kilgarrah, told me he will return one day, but he did not tell me when. I do not believe it will be soon." he says. I wonder if Morgana will return when Arthur does, if I will be important enough to Fate to return with her.  
We sit on the shore a long time. When it is nearly midnight, Merlin stands and holds out a hand to me. "Come. I have gathered wood for a fire." I hesitate, and then take his hand. He starts the fire by magic, hands me a piece of bread. We sit and eat in silence for a long time.   
"Why are you doing this?" I ask. "Why are you being kind to me? Morgana was your enemy."  
Merlin watches me for a moment. "I believe Morgana lost her way. I think she became bitter and ambitious. But in the end I did not consider her my enemy. I think I failed her, just as I failed to protect my king from harm. And it is my destiny to live heaven knows how long on my own, doomed to remember and to wait." He is silent for a bit, then adds, "You yourself have done nothing wrong. You were merely her servant."  
We finish eating in silence. I do not tell him that I was not just her servant. King Bors's words return to me. "Your loyalty is extraordinary." Morgana's words, "You are loyal to the ends of the earth." But it is not just loyalty, never has been. I love her, and I have nothing to do but wait for her when she disappears. But I cannot wait for her this time. I will not sit on the shore and watch for her return to the world of the living. Instead of sitting and waiting for her to come back to me, it is time to get off my arse and go to her. The world seems empty without her already; I don't think I can survive very long in a world in which she is not close beside me.  
After the meal, Merlin stretches out on the grass, below the trees. "Tomorrow I will take you to Camelot," Merlin says. I do not respond. I do not wish to go to Camelot, but I will not live long enough to see it again, anyway.   
When Merlin's breath slows, I stand and walk over to the edge of the lake. I unsheathe the dagger, and hold it to my chest. My heart quickens as if sensing it will stop in a few moments. It will all be over soon, I tell myself. I look out at the faint outline of the island in the middle of the lake. My hands tremble as I shut my eyes tight. I push down, inserting the blade into my chest.   
After a moment, I open my eyes. The dagger is in my body, yet I feel no more than a pinch. I am not fading away, reaching euphoria or darkness. Confused, I twist the knife in my breast. I flinch when it hurts a little more, but it is not overwhelming pain. Angry now, and terrified of what this means, I rip the dagger from my body. It stings for an instant, and hurts no more. I pull the collar of my dress down to look at my breast. In the dim firelight I see a thin, white scar puckered around the flesh the blade ruptured. I touch it with my fingers, press down on it; it does not hurt.  
I look at Merlin's sleeping body. Could I be doomed to partake in his curse? I can understand Emrys possessing eternal life; he is known as the greatest sorcerer on earth. But me? I am normal. A druid, to be sure. But I have little magic, and I do not know how to control it. Morgana did not have time to teach me.   
Morgana. At the thought of her name, her image comes flooding back to me. Her eyes closing as her breath died away forever, pushing the boat carrying her into the Lake of Avalon, the flames licking the sides of the small, wooden vessel. My fingers tighten around the dagger, and I stab my chest once more. Pull the blade out. Look at the new scar forming atop the first. I am scared and furious now, ripping open my stomach with the knife, only to feel the cut close up before my guts have a chance to spill. I slice through my wrists with a fury I have never felt before. It all seals itself.  
"I will not be parted from you, Morgana." I murmur to the dagger, still as clean in the moonlight as it was before the sun set. I stab the ground and leave the knife there as I wade, deeper and deeper, into the lake. When I cannot touch the bottom, I dive, grasping the water dwelling plants at the base of the lake. I float, submerged in the silent blue-green water as the air slowly leaves my lungs. I feel myself getting weaker and weaker, more and more drowsy. Just before I drift off, I feel hands on my body, pushing me. I cling to the plants desperately, but it is no use. I open my eyes, and I am lying on my stomach on the shore, soaking wet and alive. The entire experience could not have been very long; the sky is still dark and Merlin still sleeps beside the campfire, slowly diminishing as it eats up the kindling.  
I pick up Morgana's dagger and stab my chest again, but I no longer expect it to work. My chest is riddled with scars.  
I look around, desperately searching for materials with which I can use to try, yet again, to kill myself. I have no rope, no poison. I do not know which plants are poisonous, and I do not want to eat handfuls of dirt-tasting plants in search of one. The poison probably wouldn't work anyway. I sit at the edge of the lake once more, defeated.  
It is clear to me now that I will not die. I am forced to wait for Morgana's return; that is my penance. Yet I do not even know for sure that she will return; I do not have a Great Dragon to tell me these things. I suppose that is my penance the most: I am doomed to wait for someone who I don't even know will show up in the end. I draw my knees to my chin and hug them with my arms. I bow my head and weep. I weep until I cannot weep anymore. And then I wait for the sun, for Merlin to wake up. And I begin my loyal wait for Morgana, ever her vixen keeping vigil.  
I am only half aware of my surroundings when the sky begins to lighten. I feel numb, empty. The world feels infinitely larger than it did three days ago. I feel infinitely smaller. I do not know if I can take another day of this without going mad, let alone however long I must wait until Morgana comes back to me.  
Merlin rises with the sun. He comes to sit beside me. "Are you ready to go?" he asks.  
"I cannot die." I say, instead of answering. "I must have tried a dozen times last night. I have scars all over me."   
"You have scars?"  
"Yes," I say, looking at him. He sounds surprised. "Don't you? You said you've tried to kill yourself already."  
"No. None of my attempts yielded anything, scars or otherwise." he says. We watch each other for a few moments. Then Merlin stands, extending his hand to me. I remember the same action from last night. Weary already, I take his hand and he helps me up. I follow him into the woods.


	16. "It's Like Wishing For Rain As I Stand In A Desert" (A Drop In the Ocean, by Ron Pope)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to Camelot.

We travel for most of the day. As the sun sets, we stop by a clear river to make camp. I pull out Morgana's dagger; Merlin looks at me wearily. "Don't try again, Kieve. It won't work." he says.  
"I know," I respond, annoyed by the reminder. I want to plunge the blade once more into my scarred chest, but I know it will do no good. It will hurt no more than the prick of a needle, and merely leave another scar. I bear every attempt like a badge, of blessing or condemnation I do not know.   
Instead, I move closer to the water. I kneel on the bank beside it and grab a clump of my hair in my free hand. "What are you doing?" Merlin asks.  
I ignore him and begin sawing violently through my hair. I hack and hack and hack at the wavy locks until it is as short as Merlin's. Then I cut my hand for good measure and run the wound along both cheeks, so that they are covered in the substance. Then the skin of my palm closes, leaving a straight white scar on it.  
"Why did you do that?" Merlin asks.  
"It is a custom among my people for a wife to cut her hair when her husband dies. Usually they do not cut it this short, but I have nothing left to lose. They also put some of his blood on their cheeks, but I had to make do with what I have."  
"You were married to Morgana?"  
"As good as."  
Merlin doesn't answer. He begins to collect firewood. I help him, glancing at him every once in awhile, trying to persuade myself to ask the question I want to ask. I have been wondering it since last night.  
"And what about you?" I ask finally, when we have collected enough wood and Merlin begins to construct a campfire.  
"What about me?" He asks, glancing up.  
"Merlin, attempted suicide is not a natural reaction to a dead master. You were not just a servant." I say. When he doesn't answer, I continue, "Come, Merlin. I have told you that I love Morgana. I have loved her from the very first time I met her, when I was twelve. In the end, she loved me, too. We were as good as engaged by the Battle of Camlann. I know what servant loyalty looks like. You have not acted like it."  
Merlin sighs. "Very well. Yes, if you must know, I was in love with Arthur. It didn't start out that way; we hated each other in the beginning. But our fates are as entwined as pieces of a rope; and a relationship like that is almost destined to turn into something more than mere loyalty." He looks away and sets the wood ablaze by magic, and sighs. "But I never told him. I don't think he ever felt the same for me."  
"But he will return. You will have a chance to tell him one day."  
"Yes," Merlin concedes. "But that may well be a thousand years from this moment. That's a long time to wait."  
"Perhaps he loves you, too." I say, and, thinking of Morgana and I in the end, I add, "Then it will be worth the wait."  
"Come." Merlin says after a moment, digging through his bag. "Let us eat." I watch him a moment longer, then come to sit beside him. I take the dried venison and bread he offers me, drink the water in the skin he shares with me.  
"Who will rule Camelot now?" I ask.  
Merlin swallows his bite of food. "I expect Gwen will." He says, staring straight ahead.  
"Guinevere?" I ask.  
"Yes. She is queen."  
"Can she rule alone?" I ask.  
"I have faith in her. She is kind and just. She will be a good queen, I am sure of it." He says. He sounds sad, even as he speaks of his friend with such determination. I am about to ask him why, but he has finished eating and is now stretched out on the forest floor. I decide the question caught in my throat is inappropriate, given how long we've known one another.  
I finish my meal and lay down on the ground. For a long time I lay awake, staring up at the moon partially hidden by the trees. I think of Morgana, of her death. My bare neck is cold in the cool night air. I think about being Morgana's vixen, and I wonder how long I'll be the vixen this time. I wonder if the real vixen is still alive, if she is still waiting for her mate to return to her. I am envious of her; she will die one day. I do not know if foxes have life after death, but even if she is not reunited with her lost love in death, she will not be aware of it. I have to wait gods-only-know how long until I am reunited. If I am to be reunited with her. It has not been promised to me. She must return. Otherwise, why can I not die? But perhaps the gods have other plans for me. I cannot know.


	17. "Long Is the Road That Leads Me Home" (Cold Is the Night, by the Oh Hello's)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home at last.

At some point, I drift off to sleep, but it is a fitful rest. I dream of Morgana in her green dress, folding laundry. I dream of her in King Helios's throne room, watching her bathe and dry her body in the firelight, laying eyes upon her beautiful face from the top of the stairs. I awaken at daybreak, Merlin shaking me awake.   
"Come." he says. "We'll reach the city by midmorning."  
We walk through the underbrush. There are sounds all around us, birds singing, leaves rustling in the breeze, a deer fleeing deeper into the forest, its tail up in alarm, a red fox scampering across the trail. I long to pursue it, to find out if it is the vixen Morgana told me about. But I cannot leave Merlin; I know he would stop me. From behind the safety of a tree, the fox peeks out at us. I stare at it, and Merlin follows my gaze.  
"She is suffering." Merlin whispers, watching the fox. "She has suffered for many years."   
"Did she lose her mate?" I ask, not questioning his powers. I know his magic is strong, has been prophesied by a thousand different people for a thousand years before this moment.  
"I do not know. That would explain the sorrow in her eyes, though." he says. I stare at her quietly.  
I know who you are, I think wildly. I have suffered much, too. I have lost my mate, my siblings. I have lost so many whom I love.  
It stares at us, then lets out a yip. It turns tail and disappears into the woods. I name her Olwen a second before she vanishes, for the goddess of the spring, the guardian of love and rebirth. Merlin has continued walking. I stare after the vixen for a moment longer, then follow him.  
We reach Camelot some time later. The forest ends on the hill Morgana left me to begin her takeover of Camelot years ago. The ivory towers rise up, shining in the morning light.   
"This is where I leave you." Merlin says. I look at him in surprise; his face is hard and pale, staring straight ahead at the city in the distance. "Go through the gates and the lower town until you reach the castle. Ask someone for directions to the court physician's apartments. Tell Gaius you know me, and he will take you in."  
"What?" I say. "Aren't you coming with?"  
Merlin tears his eyes away from the city. "I cannot go back there." he says. "I'd be haunted by Arthur's memory at every turn."  
"And you think I would not be haunted by Morgana's memory?" I ask, incredulous. "She grew up in Camelot. I first met her in the castle. When she seized the city, I stayed there with her for a few days. She'll be everywhere, Merlin. Just like Arthur. I can't go to Camelot." We watch each other for awhile, and then he sighs.  
"Is there anywhere for you to go?" he asks. "Where does your family live?"  
"I have not seen them for many years. I do not know if my parents still live, or if they remain in the village I was born."  
"What is the village called? We'll start there."  
I think for a moment. I haven't considered the name in close to ten years. "Llwyntir." I say, remembering the day the elders consecrated the ground for our village, after we fled our camp when Kilydd and the others died.   
"We'll go to Ealdor. Perhaps my mother knows where the village is." he says. After one more glance in the direction of his old home, he turns back toward the forest. I follow him.  
We travel for most of the day. Just before the mountains, our markers for moving in the next direction toward Ealdor, I hear the sounds of a village: children laughing, men fixing a roof, woman chatting as they do chores.  
"Ealdor?" I ask Merlin. He shakes his head.   
"Llwyntir?" He suggests. I don't believe this is the location of my village, but we move toward the sounds. We reach the edge of the trees, and enter a clearing. It is Llwyntir, down to the very last roof. It all comes flooding back to me as I stare at the village. How could they still be here? It has been ten years, and they must have survived other raids besides the one in which I was captured.  
A woman with long, black hair walks past Merlin and I. When she turns, she and I both gasp. "Clarine!" I shout. Clarine smiles wide, handing the jug she carries to the woman beside her, and runs to me.  
"Kieve!" she says, throwing her arms around me. I hug her back, and for the first time since Morgana's death, I feel truly happy. I cannot contain my grin. "Oh, it is so good to see you!" She says when we pull away to look at each other. She turns to the woman holding the jug who is watching us in surprise. "Kendra, go find Cerys and Dafydd. Tell them their daughter has returned at last." The woman, Kendra, stares at me for a moment, almost dropping the jug. Then she turns and runs into the village, shouting my parents' names.  
"You must tell me everything," Clarine says. "And what of your mistress?" It is as if a knife has been wrenched into my gut, if I could feel such an injury like a mortal person. I look away, and Clarine puts her hand on my shoulder. "I am so sorry, Kieve. I know you were devoted to her."  
"Where is she? Where is my daughter?"   
I look up quickly at my mother's voice. I could never forget her voice. I see her running towards me, her golden hair whipping behind her. My father runs with her, his hair and beard graying with age.  
"Mam! Tad!" I scream, running to meet them, tears filling my eyes. I throw my arms around them, and the three of us are suddenly clinging to each other and sobbing.  
"My darling, my darling Kieve," My mother repeats, kissing my head a thousand times.   
"Mam. Tad." I whisper. When we can manage to let go of each other, I turn to introduce Merlin to my mother and father, and to Clarine, but he has vanished. Part of me wants to run into the forest after him and bring him back, but then I wonder if perhaps we are not meant to live out our life sentences together.


	18. "Someone Come and Save My Life" (Sleeping Sickness, by City and Colour)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifty years in Llwyntir.

I stay with my parents for fifty years. I work with my mother as the healer of the village. I tell them everything of my life in the twelve years I was parted from them, save for my love for Morgana and hers for me. I do not think they would like that; even druids believe in the sacred bond between men and women. So I keep my bond with Morgana to that of a devoted servant and her mistress, with an implied friendship. I also try to keep my immortality and suicide attempts a secret. I am happier in Llwyntir.   
Once, a few weeks after my arrival, my mother finds the scars on my chest as I am bathing in our home. When she asks me about them, I choose to lie, to keep my never-ending life a secret. "I feared Morgana's life was in danger, so I followed her to the battle of Camlann. A Camelot knight mistook me for one of Morgana's men, and he stabbed me. I healed myself with magic."  
"I thought you said you couldn't control your magic?" My mother says.  
"I can't. I suppose my magic realized I was going to die, and healed me itself." I say.  
"Well, I am glad that it did." Mam says.  
My father dies thirty years after I reunite with my family. We bury him near the shrine for Kilydd and the other children, so he could be close to the son from whose death he never truly recovered. I try to stab myself again after his death, but, as usual, I survive the attempt. I try to be helpful and happy for my mother, though inside me I feel like an abyss of emptiness, growing heavier by the day. I do not know how much more of it I can take. I go from happy to hollowed every few days, sometimes more than once in a day. The secret mood swings are in some ways more exhausting than the all-consuming sorrow side of the pendulum of emotions within me.  
I know Mam knows something is wrong. She looks at me with concern when she thinks I don't notice. She tried to get me to tell her if there was something else the matter, besides that my mistress is dead. I merely reply that the Lady Morgana and I had been good friends in addition to my being her servant. She is satisfied. When Tad dies, she is always watching me, trying to get me to talk about my losses. I overhear her telling Clarine that she thinks my father's death has triggered memories of losing Morgana, as well as probably Kara and Kilydd, so that it feels like I am losing four people at the same time. She is not completely wrong. On the day of my father's death, and for a few days after, I remember my siblings. But I have never stopped grieving for Morgana. I never stop trying to die, though I never do it where my mother can see me try.  
It is fifteen more years, forty-five years after I returned to my village, that my mother, old and white-haired, dies. Much to my surprise, my own red hair is beginning to fade, in spite of my immortality. Her death hits me very hard. I am now left with no one, I think, as I stare at her body on the bed, villagers I have never become very close to passing through the house to pay their respects. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I see that I am not so alone after all. Clarine looks at me with pity, while Eirlys, her youngest granddaughter, sleeps in her arms.  
A week after Mam dies, I move into Clarine's house, where she lives with her husband and unmarried daughter. She has a son and a daughter, and the son, Gareth, is married. Gareth lives on the other side of town with his wife and four children, a fifth on the way. I stay with them for five years, before being among the living is too much for me. I leave one night while the house sleeps. I never return to Llwyntir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Llwyntir is not an actual village. I created it by taking the 'llwyn' part from 'llwynog', the Welsh word for fox, and 'tir', the Welsh term for land, making it basically, Foxland.


	19. "Dreams Come Slow, and They Go So Fast" (Let Her Go, by Passenger)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty years pass alone, and then an old acquaintance reappears.

I travel for a few days before I find myself at the lake of Avalon. I am surprised not to meet Merlin here. I stay for a few days, wondering where he might be. When he never comes, I move on. In the woods, I find a hut somewhat near the lake. It is old, a thick layer of dust covering everything inside. The roof is collapsed in one place, and leaves and water damage cover the hut beneath the sagging roof. No one has been here in a long time, perhaps many years. I fix the roof in two days, and thankfully it does not rain until after it is completed. I find a very old broom in one of the corners, and sweep out the debris.   
There is a chest at the foot of the stiff, filthy bed. I open it, and gasp. I fall to the floor in shock, and then take out the garment that rests on the top of the chest. It is an emerald green gown I remember vividly. I hold it carefully as if it will disintegrate. I have found Morgana's old hovel, the shelter she told me about, where she had stayed in the early months of her exile. I hold the fabric to my face and inhale, but all I smell is dust and mothballs. The tide of long felt sorrow crashes over me, and I lay on the dirt floor, clutching the dress to my chest, weeping with misery felt anew.  
I spend thirty years barely leaving the hut. I lay on the bed, sleeping, staring at the ceiling, remembering and mourning, and trying my best to starve myself to death. My stomach twists uncomfortably, but I do not die of malnutrition. I count the days by the light streaming from the window. I do not lose count until thirty years, eight months, and five days have passed. This morning I am roused from my emptiness by a knocking at the door. I start violently; I never have any visitors. I remain on the bed, hoping they will leave. But the knock comes again, and then the intruder tries to open the door, but I locked the door thirty years ago.  
They knock again. "Kieve, open this door before I blast it open." I sit up at Merlin's voice.  
"Merlin?" I croak, my mouth dry from thirty years without water or speaking. I get off the bed and walk toward the door. It takes a few moments to get used to walking again. I unlatch the door, and there is Merlin, looking nearly the same as always. A few strands of his dark hair are now gray, and he's grown a brown beard, but he only appears to have aged thirty years since I last saw him eighty years ago.  
He smiles at me. "Kieve. It's good to see you."  
I stare for a moment before again gasping, "Merlin!" I throw my arms around him and hug him tight. It feels wonderful to touch another person again. He hugs me back.  
"When did you leave your village?" he asks.  
"Thirty years ago." I say. "There was nothing left for me there. Both my parents died. My friend Clarine was fading away before my eyes. I went to the lake, and then I found this hut shortly after. It was--"  
"Morgana's hut." Merlin finishes, looking around, his jawline tense. "I spent a few days as a prisoner here."  
"I'm sorry," I say. "We can leave, if you'd like." He looks at me.  
"That's why I'm here. I built a cottage in a clearing near the lake. I'd like to ask you to live with me there." he says.  
I look at him in surprise for a moment. "Merlin, you know I cannot marry you."  
He looks startled. "No, no, Kieve, that's not what I meant. I mean as companions, as friends. Perhaps call ourselves siblings if anyone asks."  
I consider it. It would certainly be easier to get through this period of waiting with another person who cannot die. I wonder if we can ever establish a friendship. He was very kind to me when we met, though I was the lover of the woman who had arranged for the murder of his love. Yet he and I have been on opposing sides for much of our lives; could we forget those years of hardship the other's friends and lovers had given us?  
It would be nice to have a sibling again, a brother I can confide in. Perhaps we will never be like brother and sister, but I will never know for sure if we do not stick together. "All right," I say. I pack Morgana's dress, dagger, and leather sheathe into my bag, and we leave. I never return to the hovel.


	20. "Will the Mountain Last As Long As I Can Wait?" (Jezebel, by Iron and Wine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The years go by, and Merlin and Kieve wait.

His cottage is small, but well furnished. There is already a room set up for me. I thank him truly for his kindness, and almost instantly, we fall into a rhythm of living side by side.   
Throughout the centuries, Merlin and I occasionally find ourselves in need of some time alone. It begins as every other week or so, then gradually extends to a few times a century when one of us goes off for awhile. Merlin always goes to the lake, where he sits and watches the water for days and weeks on end. The lake is very near our home in the woods, and later our cottage in the village. I know fairly early on that that's where he goes, but I know better than to disturb him.  
I go off to the clearing, far away in the woods, where King Helios's castle once stood, where I first reunited with Morgana. For the first two hundred years without Morgana, I avoid returning to the site. Eventually, it becomes unbearable to sit day after day in the little house, the four walls closing in on me. I go to the lake often, but when I need a place to think and remember and mourn, and Merlin is doing the same, I cannot go to the lake. Finally, I go back to the place where I saw Morgana once more. By now, the old formidable fortress is nothing but ruins. And I sleep, just sleep. And dream of Morgana and of Mordred and of my kingdom's king, from whom Morgana gained possession of the tower. I dream of the stress of living among what the residents of the ivory towers of Camelot saw as 'the enemy', and of the one night in Ismere when Morgana gave up her royal pursuit, and was just Morgana, my lover, my partner, my wife.   
Merlin teaches me how to control my magic, and shares with me the spell book he received from Gaius.  
After five hundred years, it becomes clear to Merlin that the Pendragons will not be back soon. He proposes a tour of the world to pass the time. I decline, determined to keep vigil until Morgana comes home, if she ever comes home. Then, I will tour the world.  
So Merlin leaves our cottage, leaves the woods, leaves Albion for the first time, which has now come to be called England. The year is 1558. He comes back a year later with a gift for me. It is a journal. He stays for five years to teach me how to read and write so that I can record my thoughts and memories in the journal. Then he asks me to travel with him once more, and leaves me with a kiss on the cheek when I decline yet again.  
He does not return for fifty years this time. When he returns, I have finished my journal, learned to grow herbs by magic, seen Macbeth in its premiere at the Globe, read the Bible three times over, and tried to kill myself five times. We have both grown old. We age slower than normal people, but we still age. We are wrinkled and gray.  
Merlin brings me three new books: the Qu'ran, Copernicus's book, and Machiavelli's The Prince. Then he stays ten years to teach me the Arabic, Italian, and Latin needed to read the books. We go to London to see another of Shakespeare's plays, each retreat for two weeks to our places, practice herbal magic, and I try to kill myself once. Merlin is quieter about it, but I am pretty sure he tries at least twice.  
A village has sprung up just a thin line of trees from our cottage. We go to visit it, and find that there is a dirt road lined with houses leading to the lake. We decide to move into one of these new houses. It has a sitting room, a kitchen, and three bedrooms, two on the main floor and one at the top of a staircase. Merlin takes the bedroom closest to the door, and I move into the room beside his.  
He is gone for a hundred years this time. I miss him almost as sorely as I miss Morgana. By now, however, I have mastered the art of missing and waiting. I grow and dry herbs. I tend the flower garden. I visit the lake and the clearing. I read Merlin's books and write in the new journal he bought for me while we were in London. I work for twenty years as a healer in the village, trading my services for food and stories to write in my journal. My first journal contained my story, my childhood and life as a servant, always returning to Morgana. This journal contains day to day affairs and stories my customers share with me, so that I will have something to show Morgana.   
Merlin spends most of the century in Asia. He returns with gifts for me once more. This time, however, he does not come with books except for two, which he purchased on his return, in case I do not like the gifts he got from Asia. He arrives at the door late one night, weighed down by parcels. "All for you," he says with a smile. I make the parcels fly carefully to the kitchen table with my magic while Merlin watches in awe (I hadn't known how to do that before he'd left). I throw my arms around him tightly. "I'm glad you're home, Merlin." I say. Then I put a cup of tea on the fire and begin slicing bread and cheese. Then we sit at the table and eat as Merlin unwraps his packages. First he unwraps the books. He bought Robinson Crusoe and the First Folio, containing many of Shakespeare's plays in print. I open the first book immediately to begin reading, but Merlin snatches it away.  
"There are more presents for you, Kieve." he says, pushing a parcel toward me to unwrap. He brought me a beautiful green kimono with brilliant flowers embroidered on it. Although it is much too extravagant for my taste, I try it on for him. Merlin smiles at me. "Morgana would think you look beautiful. Green becomes you, Kieve. Your heart is in the earth, and it shows through your whole being." he says.  
I smile. "I was a druid. My heart has to be in the earth."  
"No," Merlin says, shaking his head. "You are druid. You never stopped being druid. It's woven into the very fabric of your existence, like being a dragon lord is for me, and being Albion's once and future king is for Arthur. Now, open another." He always speaks of Arthur like he is still around, but his eyes always look tired and sad when he mentions the legendary king.  
I smile again. "You know, it's fitting that you came home tonight. It's my birthday."  
"Happy birthday, Kieve. I am sorry I didn't return earlier."  
I untie the twine of another parcel. In it are three scrolls. I unroll the one Merlin points to. In red ink, a scholar drew a circle, and within the circle are various dots in certain patterns. Surrounding the circle are illustrations of animals and writing in a language I can't read.  
"Star charts from Chinese scholars. The drawings resemble the Chinese constellations. There are twelve signs for the parts of the year. They use the signs, the Zodiac, as a form of divination. Your birthday is in late spring, Kieve. Your sign is Taurus, the bull." He points to a constellation that looks nothing like a bull. He then unrolls another scroll, on which is more of the script I can't read. "You are dependable and a hard-worker, …uh, sensual, stubborn and creative." He looks up a me. "Accurate?"  
"I suppose. Which sign are you?"  
"I was born in late winter, making me Aquarius, the water-bearer. I am shy but energetic. I am a deep thinker, independent, and logical." he replies.  
"All true." I say. Merlin laughs. "Will you teach me to read that writing?" I ask.  
"Chinese? Of course. Which brings us to the third scroll. I think you'll like it. It has a story written on it, The Ballad of Hua Mulan. It is about a woman who disguises herself as a man and joins the army."  
"Is it a true story?" I ask.  
"The Chinese think so. It's a folk tale. I'll teach you the language so you can read it and decide for yourself."  
I open the fifth and final package and gasp. A beautiful white tea set sparkles in the lamplight. Pretty pink flowers I have never seen before are painted on the low pot and handle-less tea cups.  
"They're lovely, Merlin. What are these flowers called?"  
"Orchids. They're native to China. Open the tea pot."  
I obey, and gasp again. A clipping of the same flowers, orchids, rests in the pot. They are so fresh it is as if they have just been cut. I take the branch out of the pot and inhale its sweet scent.   
"Thank you, Merlin. For everything. It's too much." I say.  
"I wanted to share my travels with you. Asia has such a rich culture. I couldn't choose just one thing to bring back for you."


	21. "The Silent Sound of Loneliness" (The Lonely, Christina Perri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they wait some more...

This time, he remains with me for a hundred years. I almost forget what it is like without him. We retreat to our spaces many times during that century, but I only attempt suicide once. He teaches me astronomy, astrology, and Chinese, and I learn to read about Mulan and the Huns. I devour Robinson Crusoe many times over. But Merlin is dissatisfied with our collection. Our bookshelf, which he built for us the last time he'd been home, only holds six books and three scrolls. Occasionally he disappears, and I think he has gone off to the lake, only for him to return with packages of books. He remains in the country, however, and only buys books from London. He comes back from these excursions excited as a young puppy with a new bone, eager to share with me the new literature of the time that is changing the way people think. In this century, our house is filled with books, from political doctrines such as Common Sense and Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, to fictional and semi-fictional stories, such as Gulliver's Travels, Equiano's Travels, Pride and Prejudice, and many other titles besides.   
We practice plant magic and smoke magic, that is, creating illustrations in the air out of smoke. Merlin creates knights, castles, and horses out of the smoke to teach me how, but when it is my turn, I immediately replicate my memory of Morgana. It is too much for me, and I instantaneously dissipate the smoke.  
"Kieve," Merlin says softly.  
"I'm fine. Sorry. Can we stop for tonight?"  
"Sure. What would you like for dinner?" he asks gently, but I have already stood up.  
"I'm not hungry. I think I'll just go to bed. Good-night, Merlin."  
"Good-night."  
We don't touch the smoke for a month. We continue to go about our daily lives for the remainder of the century, and then one day, Merlin fills up his age-old rucksack, kisses my forehead and my cheek, hugs me tight, and wishes me farewell. It is 1825. He travels throughout Europe and the United States for ninety-four years until World War I breaks out. Three days after London comes under its first air raid, he suddenly comes storming into the cottage, drops his parcels on the couch, and runs towards me.  
"Are you all right, Kieve?" he asks, grabbing my shoulders tightly. His hands shake.  
"I'm fine, Merlin. They raided London, not the village."  
"London's close."  
"Not close enough. I'm glad you're back." I reply. Merlin finally exhales and relaxes, wrapping his arms around me. "How was your trip?"  
"Great until I heard about the air raid on a radio in a Chicago hotel." he responds.  
"You didn't need to panic. They didn't come here. I can't die, either, Merlin, last time I checked. So I'm all right." I tell him. Merlin sighs, and walks over to the couch. I sit down beside him. "What did you bring from America?" I add, looking at the parcels.  
"Let me show you what I got from Germany, before this God-awful war broke out," Merlin says, unwrapping a package. It is a book. He hands it to me.  
"Fairy Tales by the Brothers Grimm." I read off the cover. "What are fairy tales?"  
"Stories with magic. No one believes in magic anymore. It's just an element in children's stories. But these are not for children. A step-sister cuts off her heel to fit into a shoe, a girl is suffocated by her step-mother, and a couple of children are kidnapped by a cannibalistic old witch."  
"These must be horrific stories." I respond, my eyes wide.  
"They are. But they're interesting, too. I'll teach your German so you can read them. Open the next package."  
I do. "Ev-Eventyr?" I read, looking at Merlin to see if I pronounced the first word in the title. Merlin nods.  
"It's Danish. It's pronounced even-teer, for-tall-tay for bo-ern." Merlin says. The title is mostly pronounced the way it is spelled, but one letter, ø, in the last word, I have never seen before.   
"What's it mean?" I ask, flipping through the book. It is all written in that same strange language. Merlin will have to teach me Danish, too. I wonder how many languages I will learn by the time the gods decide it is time for Arthur (and hopefully Morgana, too) to return. When I can read this book, I will know seven languages, including English, which has rapidly evolved since the days of Camelot and the druids.  
"Fairy Tales Told For Children," Merlin says. "This fairy tale book is by Hans Christian Anderson. I think I like Anderson better than the Grimms, but many of his stories are also quite grim, no pun intended."  
I smile. "What is in the final package?" I ask.  
"The world has changed a lot in ninety-four years. It's moving a lot faster now. There are a lot of new inventions and strange events happening. But I think one of the best things is that slavery has finally been banished in America."  
"Yes. I was beginning to think that would never happen. It seemed to deeply ingrained into their culture, didn't it?" I respond.  
"It did. So I bought you The Autobiography of Frederick Douglass, who was a former slave. His book is very famous in America. I think it will be famous for many, many years. I thought you should have it." Merlin unwraps the last parcel and hands me the autobiography.  
Merlin smiles. "It's in English, so you can actually start it tonight, if you'd like."  
For fifteen years, Merlin teaches me German and Danish. The Great War ends, and it seems as if the world will never again be torn apart by such a large-scale war. He spends the thirties telling me stories of his travels: to the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904; the launching of the Titanic in April of 1912, and then witnessing the Carpathia, the ship carrying the Titanic's few survivors, finally come into port in New York City; the Chicago Fire in 1871; and the Civil War, which he fights in for the last few months of the war.  
In 1939, Merlin begs and begs until I finally agree to visit New York with him. We only stay a month, but I cannot deny that the holiday is enjoyable. We go to the New York World's Exposition, the top of the Empire State Building, and see the Statue of Liberty. And when we return home, Morgana and Arthur still have not returned to the world of the living.  
A few years later, yet another war breaks out across the globe, with even more countries involved. Merlin stays with me during most of the war, shaking his head and talking about the ridiculousness of it all. But when he hears about the Holocaust, he immediately wants to help, and goes to the Liberation Front as soon as the Allied Forces move in to save the poor people in the concentration camps. He doesn't return to the cottage until 1953, but writes to me frequently to let me know the magic hasn't suddenly worn off and he perished in the war. He is in the Netherlands, he says, helping the country get back on its feet. He is also learning Dutch, because he has a present for me, and he wants to be able to read it so that he can teach the language to me.  
He returns in 1953. He hugs me, and then gives me a very irritated scowl. "They translated it," he says. "Last year. So you don't have to read the Dutch copy."  
"I'd still like to. What is it?" He hands me a parcel, wrapped in green paper and tied with a red ribbon.  
"It's Christmas tomorrow." he says. "I got the paper and ribbon that color for the holiday."  
"I still celebrate Yule." I respond. "After all, that's where Christmas originated. And thank you." I unwrap the parcel carefully, so I won't rip the lovely paper. It is two books. One is in Dutch, and the other is in English. The Diary of a Young Girl, by Anne Frank.   
"She lived in hiding in Amsterdam during the Holocaust. This is the diary she kept while she stayed there." Merlin explains.   
"Thank you, Merlin. I have a gift for you, as well. Come see."  
I lead him into his bedroom. On his wooden dresser I placed a small tele. "I don't know if you'll like it, but I thought you could try it out. It's quite interesting," I say.  
"Thank you, Kieve. I'm sure I'll like it."  
"How long will you stay, Merlin?" I ask.  
"I'm not sure. I think I'll stay for at least a hundred years. I can't believe they've created a weapon that can wipe out the entire world in an instant. I didn't think the world would go to war a second time, and now they have. What's stopping these foolish governments from doing it a third time? I'd rather not come running back here from halfway around the world again." he says.


	22. "And the Days Blur Into One" (Welcome Home, by Radical Face)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And wait.

And so he stays. He stays even when war breaks out in Asia twice, when Korea fights itself and then Vietnam does the same, though really we know it is the superpowers, the United States and the Soviet Union, who are the ones fighting. But he joins the youth in London, protesting and getting arrested. I bail him out of jail more times than I can count in the following three decades.   
He buys a record player, and the house fills with the sounds of the Beatles, Elvis Presley, the Monkees, the Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin, hundreds of artists and bands. In the eighties, he sits with his nose glued to the telly as he watches the Berlin Wall go down, finally. To celebrate, he goes into town and buys a color telly; a cassette player; cassettes of The Cure, The Smiths, and Queen; and a bottle of wine.   
In 1991, Merlin buys us a videocassette recorder for Christmas, and two Christmas videos, Frosty the Snowman and It's a Wonderful Life. Throughout the nineties, Merlin buys more books, and we go to London many times to watch productions on West End. We grow herbs and find work in various towns near the lake, mainly in bookshops. Merlin comes home every week with a new book, borrowed from the shop. If he likes it, he buys it from the shop. The book shelf in the sitting room fills up quickly, and Merlin buys a new one. New titles fill our shelves: Angela's Ashes, The Things They Carried, All Quiet on the Western Front, All the Pretty Horses, Into the Wild, The Pianist, and, what becomes one of Merlin's favorites, the Harry Potter series. (I think he just likes the series because they use his pants and beard as swears.)  
It's not until 2005, when Merlin comes home, frustrated and angry that he can't find any cassettes by Keane, that he finally goes out and buys a CD player. A week later, he gives in and buys a DVD player in order to buy King Arthur. The movie is downright terrible, and Merlin knows this even before he buys it. But he tells me he buys it because Keira Knightley will make the shitty movie more bearable to watch. I know that's not the only reason, that it's not even the main reason. I know the shelf in the closet in his bedroom is filled with books and movies he won't let me see, because they're related to the Arthurian legend. They're dog-eared and written in with sheets of paper hanging out of them. I don't know if the papers tell the true story, or analyses of the inaccuracies. I don't go through them. The films range from animated features, such as The Sword in the Stone and The Quest for Camelot, to live action children's movies, like A Kid in King Arthur's Court, to films for more mature audiences, like King Arthur, Monty Python's The Holy Grail, and The Mists of Avalon.  
"Shit." Merlin says, repeatedly throughout the movie. "Shit." Meanwhile, I'm fighting an almost irresistible urge to masturbate to Keira Knightley. She's fucking gorgeous in this movie, and I wonder (though I don't dare ask Merlin) if the real Guinevere was as fantastic and beautiful as Keira. The movie is utter shit, but Merlin's lie was right: Keira Knightley made it better than it could have been.  
Three years later, Merlin comes home with the DVD of a new musical called Once. After we watch it, I think it's complete crap (where the hell does Merlin get all these shitty, plotless movies?), but Merlin is moved to tears from the heart wrenching music, and immediately goes out to buy the soundtrack, which plays on repeat for a week from behind the closed door of Merlin's bedroom. I agree that the music is beautiful, even if the movie plot was flimsy.  
Then, Merlin comes out of his room one morning with his first edition copies of The Once and Future King and A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. He puts on his shoes and jacket.  
"Where are you going?" I ask, standing in the kitchen doorway and drying my hands on a dish towel.  
"The pawn shop."  
"You're going to sell those books? But you love them!" I say. The corners are all folded back up and the pages are free of loose papers.  
"I don't need these exact copies, though." He says putting his rucksack on his back. "Don't wait up for me. I'm going to Ireland."  
"Ireland? For how long?"  
"A few years."  
"Why?"  
"You'll see when I get back. Don't worry. I'll be just across the bay. I'll bring you a whole stack of Irish books when I get back."  
"I'm not worried." I respond, huffily, as he walks over to hug me and kiss my cheek.  
"I'll be home before you know it. Call me if you need me," he adds, holding up his mobile. He replaces it in his pocket and heads for the door.  
"If you could-" I say in a rush. He turns back to look at me. "Bring back- er- a woolen sweater. I've always wanted one." He smiles.  
"I'll bring you two, if you like. Good-bye, sister."  
"Good-bye, brother."  
We have taken to calling each other brother and sister, even when we are not in public. Many of our neighbors think we are married, but those who happen to ask are told that we are siblings, both widowed, and so we live together for companionship. Some ask, smiling, which of us is older. We tell them it is Merlin, who is truly older than me. But Merlin is not a common name nowadays (never was, to be truthful), and Kieve is much more old fashioned than even I appear to be to my neighbors. Merlin goes by Emrys now, his Druid name, and the villagers know me as Vixen, for the fox Morgana once likened to me. They believe our parents were eccentric, but not blatant with the ancient names. I know I am safe, though. The world remembers Merlin, incorrectly, but they do know his name. No one ever remembers the enemy side. They know Morgana, or, as they call her, Morgan the Fey. They know Mordred, who is sometimes known as Arthur's son, or Morgana's, or theirs jointly (even if the author concedes that the Pendragons were siblings). But they do not know my king (and, to be fair, I have long forgotten his name, as well), they do not know Sirs Cormac, Gavan, Eoghan, or Trevelian, the servants Clarine and Rachel, and they do not know me.  
He is gone for four years. I go about my life as usual, working in the book shop, tending to the gardens, reading. I go to the village to see the sixth Harry Potter film, and purchase a few DVDs, albums, and books I think Merlin will like, and leave them in a pile on his bed. By November of two-thousand and twelve, I can spread out my gifts for him cover to cover and they stretch down his whole bed, two-deep in every part. I buy wrapping paper in the last week of the month, and begin wrapping his gifts. I imagine him coming out of his room on Christmas morning and finding heaps of presents under the tree, more than we've ever given each other. I stack the gifts in my closet as I finish wrapping them.


	23. "I Can't Wait Forever" (Leave, by Glen Hansard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last year of solitude.

On December second, he comes into the house, singing a song I recognize as Say It to Me Now, from Once. He's strumming a beautiful black acoustic guitar, and his voice is actually very good. It's a little gruff, because of his old age, but I know it was once a very lovely voice. I smile and mute the television. He comes to sit beside me on the couch, and sings the song, all the while playing his guitar. Not a note is out of place.  
"That was beautiful, Merlin." I say when he finishes. I lean over and kiss his cheek. "I'm glad to see you, big brother. Is this what you went to Ireland to do?"  
"Yes," Merlin says, pulling the guitar strap over his head so he can shrug off his rucksack. "And it's been put on Broadway." He takes a CD out of his bag and hands it to me. "I ordered it online."  
"You ordered online?"  
"Yes. I got a credit card and a laptop in Dublin, and ordered it."  
"What about 'show me something that computer can do that I can't with a book and I'll buy you one'?"  
Merlin laughs. "Well, they're only selling the Broadway album in America, and I heard there were some new songs, so I had to buy it."  
"Why didn't you just vanish to New York?"  
He gives me a look. "Because I told you I was in Ireland. Anyway," he adds, shouldering his guitar again, "this is my new favorite song from the musical. It's called Sleeping." He begins to strum slowly, and then starts to sing.  
My heart breaks at every line. I can understand why Merlin feels so strongly about this music; it's turned our lonely hearts into mournful poetry. "How am I supposed to live without you?/ The wrong words said in anger and you were gone/ And how am I supposed to live without/ Anyone?" Merlin sings slowly, and tears begin to roll down both of our cheeks at the same time. He keeps singing, and keeps weeping, and the tears continue to flow down my own face. "And where did you go?" We sit in silence for a long time after the song abruptly ends, both lost in our thoughts, our memories of our lost loves.  
We are very quiet for the next few weeks, Merlin in particular. He locks himself in his bedroom for most of the month. Many times I hear him playing his guitar and singing songs quietly. Other times I hear dialogue from King Arthur or Monty Python, playing on his laptop, but I never once hear him laugh or say "Shit."  
On the twenty-second, after hearing barely two words a day from Merlin, and those usually a solemn "Thank you," I begin to worry that perhaps we will not have our usual Christmas this year. I think about the gifts in my closet, in particular the one I bought just two days ago. But I don't even feel up to celebrating Yuletide this year. The month has been hard for me, too. Five nights out of the week, I dream of Morgana, and she is scarcely absent from my thoughts during my waking hours.  
The next day, I wake up to a quiet house. Merlin's bedroom door is shut. I go into the kitchen to make coffee, increasing the temperature on the thermostat as I go. The house got cold during the night.  
There is a post-it note on the freezer door, scribbled on in Merlin's handwriting. I take it off the steel and read.  
"Kieve--  
Went to the lake. Sorry it's so close to Christmas. I couldn't stand it anymore. Probably won't be home for a week. Sorry,  
Merlin"  
I frown, and start making coffee.  
I leave for the clearing a day after Merlin retreated, the empty house and the butcher knives in the kitchen much too tempting, even though I know the blades will only leave another scar upon my breast.  
I spend the week there, magicking a bubble of warmth around me, protecting me from the cold air and the snow falling all around. The clearing and the wood surrounding it are silent. I sleep.  
I return on New Year's Eve, my mind calm and clear after seven days' worth of dreaming of a lifetime long past. Merlin sits on the couch, watching It's A Wonderful Life, videos and DVDs of Christmas movies strewn around the carpet and on the coffee table before him, a belated Christmas. I smell hot chocolate, and see two steaming mugs on the coffee table, one in front of Merlin, and the other before my place on the couch. Merlin pauses the movie and looks up at me; he's at the part when George is desperately and over dramatically kissing Mary, the moment they get together.  
Merlin gets up and makes his way over to me, carefully stepping over the movies on the floor. He hugs me, and I hold him back, beginning to cry.  
"I don't think I can take much longer, Merlin," I gasp.  
"I know."  
"It's been one thousand and five years. If I could, I'd have died the day after Morgana did." I say.  
"I know. Me too."  
I nod, and pull away, wiping my eyes.  
"And anyway," Merlin says, looking at me with a little smile. "It's soon. I can feel it."  
I stare at him. "How soon?"  
Merlin shrugs. "I'm not sure. Could be tomorrow, could be ten years from now. But in the grand scheme of things, even a decade is a short amount of time for us."  
I nod in agreement, and Merlin smiles. "Okay?" he asks.  
I smile a little back. "Okay." I say.  
"Okay. Let's watch some Christmas movies and pretend it's Christmas Eve. Look, I even got someone's throwaway tree." I look to where he's pointing, and, sure enough, in the corner there is a Christmas tree. Admittedly it looks like it's seen some better days, but it's still nice. He even put the string of fairy lights on it and the few baubles we have, as well as our small gold star. There are a couple gifts under the tree already. I smile.  
"Thank you, Merlin." I say, and follow him to the couch.  
"Do you want me to start the film over?" Merlin asks. I shake my head.  
"I know what happened before. Let's start it from here." He picks up the remote and presses play.  
We watch films until after midnight. When the cuckoo clock chimes one, Merlin says, "Do you want to open your gifts tonight or tomorrow morning?"  
"Let's save them for New Year's Day." I say. We watch the last few Christmas movies we have until three in the morning, and then say goodnight. I wait until I know Merlin's asleep, and then carry his gifts from my closet to the tree. I tear up a little to see so many gifts under the tree, and get my old Polaroid camera from my room to take a picture. Then I go to bed.  
I know Merlin does not wake up until ten o'clock, even on Christmas Day, so I set my alarm for 9:45. I want to be sure I see his face when he sees the tree.  
When I get up on New Year's, I sneak out to the living room with my Polaroid and sit on the couch. I smile again at the presents beneath the tree. When Merlin awakens, I manage to take a picture of him at the exact moment he sees the tree. His jaw drops and his eyes widen in surprise.  
"Are those…." he begins, stops, looks at me, bewildered, and starts again. "Are those all for me?"  
I smile and nod. "I collected gifts for you over the four years you were in Ireland. Those are everything I got."  
"It's going to take me all morning to unwrap those!" He exclaims, but he's grinning and laughing. He has tears in his eyes. He comes rushing over to me and squeezes me tight, planting a kiss on the top of my silver hair, his long white beard tickling my face. I laugh. "You have to unwrap yours first, then." he says, walking over to the tree. He wades through the sea of wrapped gifts and grabs the presents at the very base of the tree. I come to sit on the floor beside him, the tree and his gifts at my back. I begin to unwrap the bundles. He has given me five presents. Two of them are wool sweaters, one emerald green and one royal blue. A third is a box of Irish tea. The last two are books: The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde, and Dubliners, by James Joyce.  
"They're wonderful, Merlin. Thank you. Now you."  
He unwraps each and every one of his gifts. The unwrapping and then the cleaning up of the wrappings takes a total of two hours. Then we make brunch.  
The new year passes quickly, as years have for us since the first century of our immortality passed. We work in the book shop, we tend to the garden, read books, watch films, listen to music, practice our magic. We retreat once to our places for two days each, and we do not try to kill ourselves once. I start to feel like the year is one of the happiest I've experienced, in my thousand and twenty-eight years of life. We go to the cinema for Man of Steel (Merlin's guilty pleasure is superheroes), The Great Gatsby (one of Merlin's favorite books. He came home bouncing like a toddler promised candy when he first saw the trailer for it), and Frozen (we both have an obsession with Disney films).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, again. None of the movies, songs, artists, books referenced. Nothing. Just Kieve and a handful of other characters.


	24. "Everything Falls Into Place" (Please Don't Say You Love Me, by Gabrielle Aplin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly...

And all too soon it is December once more. We exchange gifts early, agreeing that this year, we would each add one film to our Christmas movie collection as our gift to each other, to be watched on Christmas Eve. We open the gifts on December 23rd. I buy Love Actually, which for some reason we have not seen yet. Merlin buys A Christmas Carol, an animated version from 2009 that we didn't watch when it first came out because Merlin was certain it would be shit.  
On Christmas Eve, almost fourteen years after the beginning of the new millennium, Merlin and I sit on the couch in the sitting room. We watch Christmas movies on the big black, color screen TV we bought in the eighties, as has been our Christmas tradition since the late fifties, and has continued through the years, as we bought a VCR and then a DVD player. We have yet to buy a Blu-ray player, as Merlin insists the new invention will not replace DVDs. I smile and let him control the technology in the house, even though he has said the same thing when DVDs were invented, and the VHS before that. We shall see.  
We have nowhere else to go on Christmas, and can scarcely find any joy in the holiday. We don't celebrate with the Christians; we hold our old beliefs of Yuletide, but the holiday is worldwide today, and so we decorate and buy a tree and try to be happy.   
We try to forget last year, when we spent a week in our retreats, returning to our Christmas movie marathon. A Christmas Carol turns out to be a relatively good version of the story, which marks the one and only time Merlin has ever been incorrect about deeming a film as shit. Love Actually is excellent.  
It is now ten o'clock at night, and BBC One starts playing It's A Wonderful Life. I wonder idly if the lake would be very cold tonight. Maybe turning blue for a few minutes would be almost like dying.  
"The lake's not going to kill you." Merlin says, as if reading my mind, as Harry Bailey falls in the freezing pond and George dives in to save him. Perhaps he says it to convince himself, as well.  
"I know. I just thought frostbite might be close enough to leave me satisfied for a few years." I reply.  
"When was the last time you tried to kill yourself?" Merlin asks.  
I think for a moment. "Nineteen…ten, maybe?"   
"It's been a hundred and three years, then. Don't break your streak."  
"How long's it been for you?"  
Merlin hesitates. "Forty-one years, ten days, and four hours."  
We fall silent, watching the film. The skin on my wrists and chest prickles when George stares down at the rushing, freezing waters of the river.  
"No angel for us." I say solemnly, as George and Clarence dry themselves in the bridge supervisor's shack.  
Merlin doesn't answer. It's the same thing we say every year. We take turns stating the obvious. Two years ago Merlin mentioned it; this year is my turn. We watch the rest of the film in silence. As the credits appear onscreen, Merlin's cuckoo clock rings out midnight.   
"Happy Christmas, Merlin." I say.  
"Happy Christmas, Kieve." Merlin replies.  
I stand. "I'm going to make hot chocolate. Want some?"  
"Sure. Which film do you want to watch next?"  
"You pick." I reply.  
As I walk towards the kitchen, Merlin slides off the couch onto the floor, and begins sifting through the Christmas videos. When we first got the DVD player eight years ago, Merlin made it perfectly clear that we would not be replacing our videos. "We have a VCR that works perfectly fine. If we want newer movies, we can get them on DVD. But we're not buying DVD copies of VHS movies we already have."  
I pour some milk into a saucepan and begin heating it over the stove as I take out the mugs and the tub of cocoa mix.  
"How about Rudolph?" Merlin calls from the sitting room.  
"That's fine," I reply, pouring the heated milk into the mugs. I bought them for Christmas last year, even though we didn't end up celebrating until New Year's. Merlin's is a deep scarlet, and mine is emerald. The clerk at the shop had commented on how festive they looked, but I had not bought them together for their holiday colors. The red is Pendragon red, a color probably seared into Merlin's imagination, the color of Camelot pennants and capes, the shade of flags I'd seen in the distance, across the field of Camlann, on the way to attempt to rescue my beloved. The green was a shade I would never forget, the color of Morgana's gown the first time I met her when I was a young child servant, visiting Camelot with my king and queen.   
I stir in the cocoa. "Want a candy cane in yours, Merlin?" I call, breaking off the curved part of one, and unwrapping it to place in my mug. I only eat the straight part of candy canes; it drives Merlin insane.  
"Merlin?" I call again when there's no response. Maybe his hearing is going. Or mine. We are nearly as old as the earth itself.  
"Kieve." Merlin says. "Kieve, put on your coat. Hurry."  
I turn. "What is it?" Then I see him. "Merlin! You're-- you're young again!" I exclaim, taking my coat from him.  
Merlin grins. "Yes. So are you. Look." He pushes me across the sitting room to the mirror on the wall next to the front door. My long, wavy gray hair is gone, replaced by my old short red hair, exactly the length it was the day after Merlin helped me lay Morgana to rest in the lake, when I'd cut off my hair.   
"Merlin." I breathe. "What does it mean? Do you think--?"  
"Yes. Come on. Get your coat and shoes on. We have to get to the lake."  
I yank on my boots and Merlin helps me into his coat. "Merlin, what if they are wet?" I ask.  
Merlin pauses in the doorway. "Grab the blankets off the couch." He says, and then he's out of the door. I pick up the blankets and hurry out the door behind him. I lock the door by magic, though I doubt any intruders would be here on Christmas Eve.  
We run down the road, as quick as we can while being careful not to slip on ice. We slide to a stop at the end of the road, the lake before us. It is frozen, the ice glittering in the darkness, reflecting the multicolored Christmas lights on the eaves of the homes across the road.  
There is a patch of cracked ice about ten feet off the shore. The thawed water is rushing, like the river water in the film. It is gray and white, like some black and white film water. But this is no old movie. I strain my eyes. Just above the surface, I catch sight of a shock of gold, a flutter of green. And then Merlin and I are running, running down the stone steps to the shoreline, running for the thousand years of loneliness behind us, the thousand years of grief. Merlin is yanking off his coat, and I drop the blankets on the cold sand, and begin to unbutton my own jacket.  
"Be careful," Merlin says urgently, looking back at me. And then we are off, walking cautiously and quickly across the ice. The wind starts blowing, and the sound of the waves are roaring in my ears. Merlin dives in first, and I stare into the depths of the freezing silver water, scarcely daring to hope. And then I see a spot of black, flowing just under the surface, like dark seaweed.  
"Morgana." I gasp, and I slip into the small pool. Merlin has his arms around Arthur and reaches the surface first. I'm still grasping under the water, my hands clumsy with cold. They keep tangling in Morgana's hair, so I give up, straddling her hips with my legs and pushing her up with my feet. It works. My hands untangle as her head breaks the surface of the lake, and I wrap my arms around her torso, pulling her up all the way. We gasp the cold air and kick to the edge of the ice. Morgana heaves herself out of the water first, and then turns to pull me out. The wind has died, and everything is quiet as the dead. Arthur and Merlin are already standing on the ice, staring at each other.  
"Merlin." Arthur says fondly.  
"Arthur. Are you cold?"  
"F-freezing," Arthur replies, wrapping his trembling arms around himself. He's wearing a loose fitting shirt, Pendragon red, brown trousers, and knee-height boots.  
Merlin grins. "Then come on." He leads the way back to shore, and the Pendragons and I follow.  
Merlin shakes out the red plaid blanket and wraps it around Arthur. "Thank you," Arthur replies. They watch each other.  
"Ugh, not the staring again," Morgana mutters. I look at her as she rolls her eyes. Then they widen. I turn back to the boys. Merlin still clutches the ends of the blanket around Arthur's neck. They continue to stare at each other, as Merlin slowly tugs the blanket, pulling Arthur's head forward. Their lips meet and part quickly, and then they are back to staring at each other. I smile and bend down to grab the second blanket, a royal blue velvet. I wrap it around my shaking love, and then grab her hands and start turning them over in mine.  
"Are you okay? Blue anywhere?" I ask.  
"No. Kieve---"  
But I'm not listening. I'm circling her, checking her lips, fingers, ears for signs of frost bite. "Are you sure?"  
"Kieve!"  
"What?" I ask, coming to a stop before her once more, and looking up into her fern eyes. My jaw drops a bit. My breath vanishes, just as it did that evening, so long ago, when she'd kissed me.  
Morgana smiles the beautiful, friendly smile she wore the first time I met her. There are no shadows in her eyes, no haughtiness behind that smile. She is that kind, lovely woman I met that day in Camelot over a millennium ago. And she did not use me when we met again in darkness. I see her love painted clearly on her face, hear it in the way she said my name from the depths of her heart.  
And then I throw myself at her, almost knocking the blanket off her shoulders again. I kiss her fiercely, and she holds me tightly around the waist. When we pull away, Arthur is grimacing, and Merlin is grinning.  
Arthur recovers fairly quickly. He holds out his hand for mine. "Hello, I don't believe we've met. I'm Arthur."  
"I know, sire. My name is Kieve. I was Morgana's servant when she lived with my king." I reply, giving him my hand.   
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady Kieve." Arthur responds, ever the king. He kisses my hand lightly. "Although I can see you are not only her servant."  
"Why don't we go home." Merlin suggests. He leads the way once more up the stairs and down the road. Arthur stares up at the telephone lines in bewilderment. Morgana mirrors him, but with a look of mild interest.   
"Merlin, couldn't you just--" he trips over the curb, not watching where he's going in his shock. "Couldn't you just dry us off by magic?"  
"Not out in the open, cabbage head. Use your common sense." Merlin says, glancing at him in mild amusement.  
"Is magic banned in this time as well?" Arthur asks.  
"Not so much banned as thought to be pretend. The stuff of children's stories." I respond.  
"Pretend? This stuff looks like magic," Arthur mutters, staring up at a streetlight. He looks at Merlin. "How long were we all gone?"   
"About a thousand years." Merlin replies. Arthur stops short, staring at him.  
"A thousand…. Merlin!"   
"Honestly. Can we wait until we get inside to have this conversation? Come on, it's the next one."  
We finish the walk in silence. Morgana takes my hand as we turn up our drive. "It seems you are still my beautiful vixen," she whispers. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long."  
Merlin says the spell to unlock the door, and then holds it open for everyone. Arthur is squatting in front of the telly, tapping the screen and jumping away when a man on the screen begins to speak when Merlin shuts the door behind him.   
"Come here, Arthur," he says. Arthur obeys, throwing suspicious glances over his shoulder at the telly. Merlin shuts it off by magic, making Arthur jump again. When the king is standing beside Morgana and me, Merlin says a word and his eyes glow gold. Suddenly we are warm and dry.  
"Thank you, Merlin." Morgana says. Merlin looks at her anxiously, and she smiles. "It's okay, Merlin. This time we can be friends. Arthur and I talked. The years only seemed like about a week in Avalon, but being stuck together for that amount of time, and no need to eat or sleep, we learned to trust each other again."  
Merlin smiles then, and turns to look at Arthur, who's flipping through the Qu'ran, his brow furrowed in confusion at the words. "Now, you clotpole." Arthur puts the book back on the shelf and scowls at Merlin. "I've waited here for over a thousand years for you, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you get away with a little peck."  
Arthur just stares at him. "You've been alive for a thousand--"  
"Arthur." Merlin warns. Arthur sighs and rolls his eyes, smiling.  
"Gracious, keep your scarf on, I'm coming." Arthur huffs, approaching Merlin. In one fluid motion, he scoops Merlin up, his arms around his waist, and kisses him passionately. They stay like that for awhile. Then Arthur pulls away. "Happy, you idiot?" he asks.  
"I love you," Merlin gasps, staring up at him. My heart skips a beat for him.  
"I love you too, Merlin," Arthur responds, smiling fondly. "Now, how in the hell have you been alive for a thousand years?"  
"Let's sit down," Merlin suggests. The four of us sit down on the couch.  
"When did you find out you were immortal, when you went two hundred years and didn't age a day?" Arthur asks, incredulous.   
"We aged," I reply. Arthur turns to look at me. "We aged slower than mortal people, but we grew old. We only just became young again when you came back."  
Merlin says a spell, and he transforms once more into an old man. I feel hair on my shoulders, and know he's changed me, too.  
"Why, you look like an elderly couple," Morgana says. I can tell she's trying not to laugh. I want her to, though. It's been so very long since I've heard my love laugh.   
"Anyone who asks is told that we are brother and sister. Emrys and Vixen Astolat." Merlin replies. "Which, in a way, we've grown to be."  
He changes us back to our old selves once more.  
"Then how did you discover you were immortal?" Arthur asks again, turning back to Merlin. Merlin looks down at his lap. There is a moment of silence, and all the times I ever tried to kill myself that felt like little more than the prick of a needle run through my mind. I've long since lost count of how many times I tried to no effect.  
"You didn't." Morgana says harshly, suddenly the formidable, cruel monarch I had seen her direct towards her men when they failed a mission, the two words like a vile poison being forced into my body. I look down, too.  
"Kieve," Morgana says, her voice suddenly weak, only the second time I've heard it that way. "Tell me you didn't."  
"Didn't what?" Arthur asks.  
"Use your head, brother. What's the first thing you would do if you lost Merlin?"  
Merlin looks up suddenly.   
"That's easy," Arthur said. "Try to get him back, of course."  
I sneak a glance at Morgana; she rolls her eyes. "Yes, but after that. Unlike when I abducted him--"  
"You know about that?" Merlin asks Arthur.  
"We had a thousand years in Avalon together, remember, Merlin?" Morgana asks, and then looks back at her brother. "Unlike when I abducted him, if you knew for sure Merlin was dead, had seen his corpse, and no manner of magic could bring him back, what would you do?"  
"Kill my--" Arthur answers almost immediately, and stops halfway through, turning slowly to face Merlin. "You didn't."  
Merlin nods solemnly. "Two hundred and eighty-one times in the past millennium and a half." He says. I stare at him. I had no idea he'd attempted that many times, or that he'd kept track.  
"Merlin." Arthur breathes.  
"But every time, I lived. I vomited the poison, the cuts healed, I woke up still hanging, and…" he looked up at Arthur. "you kept pushing me out of the lake."  
There is a moment of silence, and then Arthur says, "I remember that now."   
I remember the night after Morgana's death, when I had tried to drown myself, but felt a pair of hands pushing me to the surface. I realize now that that must have been Morgana's doing.  
"My immortality is different than Merlin's," I say. Arthur and Morgana look at me. "His attempts healed themselves. Mine didn't."  
"You have scars?" Morgana breathes.  
Slowly, I pull up my jumper sleeves, revealing the hundreds of scars that crisscross up my wrists and forearms, all the way up to my elbow, and the scar on the palm of my left hand. Morgana barely breathes beside me. I pull the sleeves back down, and tug on the collar of my jumper, down my breast, so they can see the scars from blade after blade that I plunged into my chest over one thousand years of loneliness.  
"Oh, sweetheart," Morgana whispers. The clock chimes the hour, making us all jump.   
"What the hell is that?" Arthur says, turning in the direction of the sound.  
"It's called a clock. I'll explain everything new with the world starting tomorrow, but for now, it's past midnight. We should get to bed. Come, Arthur, I'll find you a night shirt to wear. Tomorrow's Christmas, but the next day we can buy you some new clothes."  
"What's wrong with my clothes?"   
"First of all, you only have one pair. That isn't going to cut it nowadays. Second, they're ancient. You'll be stared at."  
"And what the devil is Christmas?" Arthur asks.  
"Yuletide. I'll explain tomorrow. Come on, idiot."  
The four of us stand, and Merlin leads Arthur towards his room. I take Morgana towards mine, beside Merlin's, close to the stairs to the second floor. Arthur and Morgana go into the rooms first, calling good night. "Merlin," I say, just before he follows Arthur. He looks at me, and I smile. "Happy Christmas."  
Merlin smiles back and hugs me. "Happy Christmas, indeed, Kieve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, even if it was very, very original character-heavy. Some notes on the final chapter and the story in general:  
> Astolat, Merlin and Kieve's fake surname, was taken from the name of the Lady of Shalott, of Alfred, Lord Tennyson fame. Many of the characters' names that I made up were also taken from Arthurian legend (Bors, Evaine, Lionel, Gavan, Clarine, etc.)  
> The goddesses Kieve prays to (Badh, Morrigan, Rhiannon, etc.) were actual Celtic goddesses.  
> Mam and Tad (pronounced Mahm and Tahd) are Welsh terms for Mother and Father.  
> I pronounce Kieve's name keev, but that is not necessarily the correct pronunciation.  
> I don't know if Morgana's vixen is representative of actual foxes (though she's probably not).  
> But enough of my notes. Thank you again for reading! This is the longest story I've ever written.


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